#but if you feel like where you are is too strong then it's easy to gather yourself and figure out what to do

[bi-writes]

polarity | ghost x f!reader

maybe we're not so different after all.

type: one-shot (8.3k), AO3

cw: this piece is actually super dark proceed with caution, dark!ghost, dark!simon, sunshine!reader, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of violence + gore, smut, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral, simon is not a good or nice person (except to reader), reader also maybe isn't a good person who knows, reader has hair long enough to hold, curvy/plus-sized!reader, meet-cute until it's not, background breeding kink, size difference, size kink, military inaccuracies, references to simon's past canon trauma, 18+

Ghost does not believe in love at first sight.

The concept is for children; even when he was a child, he doesn’t think he would’ve believed it then, either. There was no love where he went, even to the places where it was owed to him. In his own house, he feared what love felt like. The kind he knew was pain and misery and the terrifying reality of what it meant to always be looking over his own shoulder.

Love at first sight chewed Simon Riley up—and what it spat out was terrible, big, and caged-off from the rest of the world.

Ghost is built of many layers. Not like an onion, no—onions are easy to manipulate. With the tip of a knife, you can cut right through its skin and tear it apart, but Ghost is not built the same way. He laid concrete out in front of himself a long time ago. The things around him are rotten, curled in on itself, and it would take too long to unbury him for anyone at all to want to spend the time and try. He prefers it this way. He likes it this way. Being alone means there are no surprises, and there is no one waiting for you. There is no one to disappoint, and there is no one to prove right or wrong. There is only today and tomorrow, because yesterday has already passed, and he doesn’t care to think about what already was.

It’s Johnny that’s brought him here. In a pub too loud, with watered-down drinks that cost a quid too much. He didn’t have an excuse today to turn him down. Johnny’s got a sister he needs to see, and his sister has got a friend—someone from her uni, taking the same chemistry courses, or something like that. He can’t really remember, he wasn’t paying attention too closely, but Johnny offered to pay if his lieutenant just gave him company in the long drive into the city.

The booth is too small. His bourbon tastes off. All he wants to do is smoke a cigarette, but he’s been staring daggers at the “No Smoking” sign that’s posted behind the bar. There’s a ringing in his ears that’s been following him since they got off their last op just a few days ago, and it feels strongest here in this room, with too many unknowns in too many dark corners.

“Johnny!”

A soft voice squeals. Simon’s eye twitches, and he looks over Johnny’s shoulder to see a pretty brunette with bright, blue eyes smiling wide as she hurries towards them. Johnny slips out of his seat to cradle the woman to his chest, rocking back and forth as he hugs her. His baby Emily, he hears Johnny mutter. She’s got that same square jaw and strong brows, and Ghost imagines that if Johnny were to grow out his hair, it’d grow in the same matching, bouncy curls that Emily has. She sounds so happy to see him, and Ghost swirls a gloved finger around the rim of his glass as he watches.

It tastes sour, looking at something that he used to have. He wishes that he didn’t want it as much as he thinks he does at this very moment.

“Oh! Sorry, forgot for a wee second there. This is who I told you about—”

Emily steps aside, and there you stand.

Glossy, pink-tinted lips. A cardigan that hugs your frame with a knit, sunflower pattern. Light wash jeans, baby blue boots. Your fingertips are painted glittery and pink, and your baby blue purse matches your shoes.

Emily says your name, and you hold out your hand for Johnny to shake. It’s then that your eyes move to the shadow behind him, and Ghost licks over his teeth, satisfied, when you visibly swallow and your eyes widen a little.

“Ach, don’t mind ‘im. Tha’ scary bastard is just my lieutenant, Simon,” Johnny nods his head over his shoulder. “Simon, would ye introduce yerself, fer fuck’s sake? Stop brooding over there.”

Naturally, Emily sits next to her brother, already squeezing his shoulders and excitedly telling him about some fellowship opportunity she was up for. You slip your purse off your shoulder, shuffling towards the space next to Simon. You grip the edge of the booth to hoist yourself up onto the high seat, and you smile a little when Simon holds out his hand for you.

You take it, smooth palm in his gloved one, and it takes no effort at all for him to tug gently and get you up to sit. He sniffs, looking up when he finds himself staring a little too long at the curve of your jeans, but it’s hard not to when both of you take up the entirety of the booth. Just to fit, Simon has to lean back, and you adjust your cardigan over your shoulder when Simon stretches one big arm out behind you.

“So, uh…” You clear your throat. “What are you drinking, Lieutenant?”

“Piss water,” Simon says lowly. He cringes a little at the bite of his tone—he never means to be curt, but it always comes out that way. You purse your lips, tapping your nails on the wood, and you look at him over your shoulder.

“Hmm,” you make a face, “so Johnny made it?”

It takes a few moments for Simon to realize you’re telling a joke. The silence must mortify you, because you’re looking down and tearing a piece of yarn out of your sweater, and Simon realizes he’s wearing his mask, and you can’t see his face, and she’s trying to break the fucking ice—

“Nah,” Simon shrugs, shaking his head. “His tastes more like right shit.”

Your eyes flicker up, and you stare at him for just a few moments under your lashes before your hand goes up to cover your mouth. You giggle, cheeks warm, and he blinks at you slowly as your entire body relaxes. Your thigh touches his, and his fingers flex on the hand that’s thrown behind you, twitching as he thinks about letting them graze the skin peeking out from under your sweater.

When he gets the urge to touch you under your chin, he nearly curses out loud because fuck—

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Simon knows it as soon as he lays his eyes on you again. Staring right into yours, hand fidgeting behind you as it wants so desperately to cup the back of your neck and tangle into the strands of your hair—fuck, fuck, fuck—he’s so fucked.

He knows it, too, when you’re in his bed. Sunflower sweater draped across his floor, boots in the hallway, glittered nail-polish piercing his biceps as he tilts your head back, bares your throat, sinks his teeth into the delicate flesh there. You giggle, and it’s the rainbow after a storm. The drink of water after days in the desert, the stitch that holds the seams together, the pins that will take his broken bones and put them all back together again—

He’s feeling his cum dripping between your thighs when you ask him about his scars. He adjusts the edge of his mask as soon as you ask, sniffing under it as you smooth a finger over a puckered scar on his chest left behind by the ricochet of a stray bullet, one of many. You squeeze your thighs together when his long fingers move in squelching circles over your cunt, and your back arches when he slips them inside of you. You take his jaw between a few fingers and grip it tight, pressing your lips against his mask as you whine and kick your feet in overstimulation.

He doesn’t want you to ask questions. He doesn’t want to burst this bubble of warmth and goodness and intimacy that he’s created, because then this will be something else. Right now, he’s the mysterious, black ops military man you’ve spent an incredible night with, and if you start talking, you’ll learn. You’ll understand. You’ll find out why he doesn’t want to talk much. You’ll discover what he is under the skin he wears, and he already knows he’ll terrify you. There is nothing good about what someone uncovers under the lid he keeps over his head.

“Where did you get this one?” You point to a particular nasty white gash on the side of his ribs. He rubs a thick hand down your bare back, cupping your ass and squeezing gently.

“Op in Baghdad,” Simon murmurs. “Hand to hand.”

You touch a small circular scar on his arm.

“And this one?”

“Cigarette.”

You push the blankets down a little and bring your knee up. Simon grips the side of your thigh, and you hike your leg up to give him a better look at the puffed scar across your kneecap.

“Look at this,” you giggle. “I fell off my bike when I was little.”

“Tha’ right, swee’eart?”

“Mhm. Just like you.”

“Just like me.”

You’re still there in the morning. Cheek smushed against his chest, leg tangled between his, arm curled around his middle. There’s a little drool drying on the side of your mouth, and Simon thumbs along your jaw as he watches you sleep. The glittery eyeshadow you were wearing last night has smeared across your cheek a little, and you’re glowing. A good shag and a good night’s sleep, and you look like a right angel in the early hours.

You look like one on his couch, too. You look like one in his shirt that barely fits over your tits, watching his telly, eating the shit plate of eggs he made you since he’s never bothered to learn how to cook. You look beautiful getting your clothes back on and smelling just like him as he drives you back to your flat.

You look like his when he crowds you against the door of your place, masked mouth against your open lips as you fumble for the doorknob and yank him inside to get his pants off.

Your flat blinds him. There’s different colors scattered across the place. A fluffy pink carpet in the living room. String lights hung everywhere, in different colors, twinkling gently. There’s plants of all shapes and sizes hanging from the ceiling and overflowing from their brightly colored pots. No plate or cup is the same shape or color or even matches one another, and there’s lamps in the shapes of mushrooms and fish sitting on your mismatched coffee and side tables. You collect everything—movie posters of all kinds on the walls, an entire wall of funny clocks, another wall of arts and crafts that must be homemade, framed and hung up.

Your home is what you are. Fun and colorful and happy and bright, and Simon hikes his mask up so he can bite and lick and nearly eat you as he tries to absorb all of it. There is nothing inside of this place that doesn’t incite joy, and he feeds on it like a leech. He must have it, because he never has before, and whenever he lets go, he feels it less, and that cannot happen, he won’t let it go.

If it isn’t your smile keeping him close, your pussy is the next best thing. You look incredible on your knees—perched on your elbows, ass up, pushing back against him as he fucks into you lazily. You’re so beautiful, in every position, but there’s something about getting to push your thighs apart a little and watch you take his cock that makes his belly clench as he watches you suck him in again and again and again. There’s a ring of slick gathering at the base, making it nice and easy for him to kiss your cervix, and you sound so pretty—soft whines of his name, little mewls that make his jaw tick.

“Simon—Simon, please—”

He doesn’t like to hear you beg. You deserve whatever you ask for, whatever you want. Those big eyes should never desire anything. He never wants to see you pout or blubber—he wants you relaxed and pleasured and incoherent from how fed you are in every aspect, and he’s going to fuck you right into this mattress until he gets you right where you’re meant to be.

You tell him he looks funny in your bed, surrounded by the squishmallows and fluffy teddy bears, but he doesn’t mind. He didn’t realize what a proper bed could do for his back, because yours has springs and memory foam, and his body just sinks into it just right.

He gets woken up in the middle of the night by his phone. Wheels up at 0500, and now he’s dreading getting into his truck. There’s something warm on his chest, and for a moment he thinks it’s you, but then he blinks into focus when the thing on his chest moves and stretches, staring down at him with curious green eyes. It’s a chunky tuxedo cat, and it’s wearing a black bedazzled collar.

“‘ello,” Simon mutters, scratching under its chin. The big thing just nuzzles against his hand before moving to the end of the bed to curl up between your feet.

Simon tries not to think about you on the drive back, and he tries not to think about you as he puts his gear on; but there’s a bouquet of fake sunflowers on a secretary’s desk mocking him, and when he goes to put his gloves on, there’s still glitter on his fingertips.

You are everywhere. You are in the warmth of the sand that gets under the fabric of his mask. You are in the water that sustains him on hour fifteen of sitting on a rooftop. He sees you in the bright red that trickles from the hole in his target’s forehead, matching the red of the strawberry plushie that you were holding the morning he left.

He notices himself more. How much space he takes up. How loud his voice is. He compares the way his cock looks in his hand now to the way it looked in yours, and he has to swallow the groan that threatens to break when he thinks about the way you thumbed at the tip and cooed about how pretty he was. Delicate, pretty hands, not at all like his own—not at all like the roughness of his palms, the scars along the backs of his hands, the blood against his raw knuckles from beating a hostile into the ground just to feel something.

Just to feel anything.

Standing next to you, it is all too clear what kind of man Simon Riley is. He’s not a man at all—he’s nothing more than an extension to his rifle, and when the trigger isn’t getting pulled, he’s just not that fucking useful.

Johnny is in a mood. Scowling like a brat. Glaring at the back of his head. Hitting him with his shoulder whenever they pass by each other. Simon is indifferent, and Simon pretends not to care, so he takes it in stride, but it makes his teeth ache with how annoyed he is.

“What the fuck is wrong with ye?”

He doesn’t like being scolded, especially not by his sergeant; but he sits there, and he takes it, because what Johnny is telling him isn’t a lie. There’s a girl that woke up in an empty bed—a sweet one, with glassy eyes, and she thinks he’s a two-faced asshole that slipped out when she wasn’t looking. A girl that can do casual, but not a girl that can tell him about the dreams she’s too scared to write down and lets him rest his head on the same pillow where she rests her own. Too intimate, too many words, too many times he came inside of her and told her that’s where it’s supposed to be—in y’r pretty pussy, baby, right there—

He’s never done this before. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t stick around where he knows he doesn’t belong, and he never thinks he’s done anything wrong enough to warrant some kind of apology. With Simon, you get what you get, and he doesn’t think he advertises himself as someone warm, empathetic, considerate; but he’s sitting here, his truck still running, and there’s a decaying plastic-encased bouquet of yellow tulips resting haphazard in the passenger seat.

He’s been waiting on your doorstep for more than five minutes. He sees you peeking through the window in your kitchen, and his eyes find yours through the blinds. He narrows his eyes at you, squeezing the bouquet until the plastic crinkles under his fists. It takes a couple more moments before you open the door, and Simon sniffs under the mask when he sees your eyes again. They’re big and wet and sad.

He never wants to see them like this again.

You’re sweet, so you take the flowers from him. You purse your lips as you stand there, trying to keep your lip from wobbling, but it’s very clear you’re trying not to cry. You hug the flowers close to your chest, and Simon brings his hand up, tucking his gloved fingers under your chin and tipping it up.

“‘ello, swee’eart,” he murmurs. “Were y’lookin’ for me?”

“N-No.”

“Y’r a bad liar, baby.”

It takes a few minutes to get you settled. Sitting on your couch, batting at your tears with the sleeve of your sweater as Simon turns the kettle on in your kitchen. The cat weaves between his legs as he steeps the tea bags, and when he comes back into your living room, you’re staring at the droopy tulips, rubbing a thumb over the petals.

“‘ere,” Simon murmurs, setting down a mug in front of you.

“I…” You wipe under your nose. “I-I don’t need your pity, Simon.”

“Not here for tha’.”

“I know Johnny said something to you, and I really don’t want to talk about it—a-and if that’s why you’re here, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

You pick up one of the stuffed animals that sits on your couch. It’s a goldfish, fat with stuffing around the middle, with a comical smile and rainbow-colored scales. You hug it, resting your cheek on it, staring at Simon through wet eyelashes as he stiffens uncomfortably. Crying, emotions, talking—he doesn’t do any of these things. This complicates things. Relationships make things more difficult, and connections mean he has obligations, and he’s already seeing now what this kind of thing will be between you.

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

“He did say somethin’,” Simon mutters. He sniffs, looking down at his gloved hands. His fingers curl into fists as they rest on his thighs, and he lets out the breath he’s holding harshly, shaking his head. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing here, but the thought of getting up and leaving seems worse. “Didn’t sit right wit’ me.”

You tuck your legs underneath you, and he watches as you absentmindedly knead the stuffed fish. You hum lowly, sheepish, and then you open and close your mouth as you try to find the words to say.

“I know we…” You flinch a little. “It was just…I know it was just a day. A night.” You rub your nose. “I feel so stupid. I don’t want you to feel bad. I don’t want you to feel…like you h-have to come here and…explain, I…” You close your eyes. “I-I just…I really like you, Simon.”

I really like you, Simon.

He leans his head back against the back of your couch. Something in his chest squeezes tight, and he swallows hard as he listens to you say it again and again in his head.

I really like you, Simon. I really like you, Simon. Don’t you like me?

“Oh, love,” Simon breathes. He turns his head to look at you, and you’re already looking at him. You have the fish to your chest, hugging it tighter, and he reaches over and touches under your chin gently. “Y’don’t want this. Y’don’t want me. I know y’think y’do, and ‘s sweet, but y’don’t want this.”

“Tell me why,” you say softly. “Convince me, then.”

“Do you…do you even know wot we do?” He asks. “The kinds of things they ask us to do? Wot I’ve done t’get here?”

You shake your head, and when his hand opens up, your cheek finds his palm, resting there, nuzzling.

“We’re murderers with fuckin’ passes,” he whispers. “There isn’t a line we don’t cross. No boundary we don’t ignore. They killed my whole fuckin’ family, and then I came back for more, because tha’s the kind of life I live, and tha’s the kind of work I do. When I come home, I have someone else’s blood on my clothes, do y’understand tha’?” He leans closer, touching his nose to yours. “We go places tha’ no one comes back from. Even now—” He pinches your chin between two fingers, “—I strangled someone with these very hands, love, tha’s the kind of man I am. Look at me—”

You flutter your lashes, meeting his eyes, and he shakes his head.

“Tha’s wot I do, love,” Simon grunts. “And the worst part of it is tha’ I fuckin’ like it.”

You lift a hand up and wrap it around his wrist. There is no resistance as you draw his hand off your face and hold it instead, intertwining your fingers and resting them in your lap. His hand dwarfs yours—long, deft fingers and spread palm that covers your own completely. You scoot a little closer, getting up onto your knees, and Simon’s eyes follow you as you abandon the stuffed fish to put one hand on his shoulder and the other cupping his masked cheek.

“You didn’t say no.”

“Wot?”

“You won’t say no,” you whisper, sliding the hand on his shoulder up to caress the back of his neck. “To me. To this.”

“Because I can’t,” Simon groans. “Need you t’do it.”

“But I…” You lean down and press your forehead to his. “I-I do want it. I want you. You’re…” You kiss him through the mask, a soft press of your lips against his. You feel him kiss back, and you pull away slowly. “Please. Please, Simon?” You kiss down his cheek, thumbing under his eye, and he lets out a shaky breath as you fall into his lap, knees on either side of him. His hands come up easily, cupping under your thighs, and you whine as he drags your hips forward, a slow grind that makes you shake. “Won’t you try? For me?”

Getting Simon into your bed is too easy. He looks nice here, underneath you. You press down onto his chest for leverage, using it to help throw your hips back against his. He’s deep, pulsing inside of your cunt—your rhythm stutters every time he touches your cervix, but his tight grip on your ass keeps you moving.

You’re so wet. You’ve never been wetter with another man. Sweat, tears, slick—every part of you leaks when you’re with Simon. You dig your nails into his chest, and he grunts, when you start to feel your orgasm creeping up on you, you arch your back to get friction onto your clit and squeal when Simon gets the hint; he lifts you up and plants his feet against the bed to fuck up into you and force your eyes into the back of your head.

He tastes like you after awhile. After spending days in your flat, his kisses start to taste as sweet as the pastries you make, and he starts to smell like the citrus soaps you keep in your bathroom. You get a whiff of lavender from his clothes after using your laundry detergent, and he sleeps like the dead after round two inside of you. Cum cooling between your thighs, mouth fixed to your throat, fingers stuffed inside of you to keep warm as he breathes in a sigh of relief until he’s deep asleep. He still doesn’t take his mask off, but he gives you his mouth, and you fix yourself there, mouth against his, kissing him feverishly whenever he exposes his lips just for you.

“Will you miss me?” You ask. He’s standing at the door, pulling his jacket on. He flips the hood up over his head, clicking his tongue as he fits a hand into the back pocket of your jeans and squeezes, pulling you towards him and into his chest.

“Mhm,” he mutters. You giggle, cupping his cheeks, and when he puts his thumb between your lips, you let him open your mouth, tilting your head as he spits onto your tongue before kissing you wetly. You wrap your arms around his neck, charmed bracelets jingling as you try to climb up to him. He bends, gripping you under your thighs before he hoists you up and against the wall. You moan, scratching along his back.

“Do you really have to go?” You whisper between kisses, and he hisses in response.

“Got to,” Simon sighs, but you smile wide when you hear the sound of his belt buckle. “But I can be late.”

Like you, Simon feels like he’s seeing the world for the very first time—all in color. Food has taste. Views have beauty. His gun feels heavy, and his cot is cold to the touch. Time finally has duration—it hangs and drags now, minutes and seconds taking too long as he sits in a dark room and listens to his captain explain an op he could care less about. His leg bounces impatiently, fingers twitching as he watches the screen and tries to pay attention.

Complicated. Difficult. Not enough and too much.

You are so beautiful. Your name lights up his phone, several pink and yellow emojis beside your name that you entered yourself.

we miss u! xoxo

There’s a picture of you and your cat. You’re seated on your couch, a pink blanket in your lap, a selfie of you holding up your cat in one arm. Simon clenches his jaw when he sees that you’re practically naked—in just a yellow lace bra, blanket covering your lower half. You send another picture after a few seconds, and Simon licks over his teeth. Another selfie of you, cleavage on display, and he can see the little rhinestones that are sewn into your bra. He can also see the little butterfly clips you have in your hair and the darling smile you wear.

He comes in his fist later, selfie on display in one hand, his mind on the sound of your voice. It’s never happened so fast—just a few languid tugs, and he’s spilling over his thighs like a teenager.

It’s all he thinks about. The blood runs warmer, easier. His gun fires quicker. He’s got tunnel-vision now, eyes on his prize—the sooner he finishes, the quicker he gets home, so he sinks his blade into throats and keeps his feet moving. He keeps quiet, keeps steady, and as soon as he’s got his target in his sights, he pulls the trigger without a second thought.

“Got somethin’ on yer mind, LT?”

Simon narrows his eyes. Johnny looks smug—a ghost of a smirk on his face, face red from sweat and his own cheekiness. Simon just leans his head back against the side of the helicopter, looking outside as the ground gets farther and farther away.

“Never pegged ye fer the type.”

Simon’s hands dig into his rifle.

“Always liked tha’ one,” Johnny continues. “Got a sweet face. Always wondered why she never liked me. Guess she likes ‘em big ‘n scary.”

“Careful, Johnny,” Simon warns, glaring at him.

“I just—”

“No, listen ‘ere,” Simon snaps. “We don’t talk about ‘er. We don’t mention ‘er. She is off limits, to you or anyone else. As far as y’r concerned, she doesn’t exist, yeah? Repeat it back t’me.”

“Don’t know who yer talkin’ about, LT,” Johnny says after a few moments. Simon looks away, shaking his head.

“Good boy.”

He doesn’t go back to his flat. There isn’t anything there that he wants; everything he needs leads straight to you. You’re cooing when he comes through the door, murmuring lowly as he drops his duffel bag and shoves his masked face into the crook of your neck. He crowds you against the door when you shut it, and you giggle as he takes deep breaths of your perfume. His hands grab at your waist, sliding down the backs of your thighs, feeling over the soft skin and biting at your throat even through the mask.

“What happened, teddy bear?” You mumble, scratching the back of his neck. “What did they do to you, huh?”

Dog, mutt, devour. He’s been away for too long, been starving ever since he left, and you take it with a smile. Simon is never too much for you. Simon is never too rough or too loud, and he is never too far into your space or too attached. You drink it so lovingly, and you never push him away.

He watches you carefully as you help him take his gear off. You start with the weapons. You slip the gun out of its holster on his chest, emptying the chamber and taking the magazine out. His grip on your waist tightens at the sight of you handling it with such ease, and you just shrug as you set it aside.

“I’ve been practicing.”

You unload all of his throwing knives, from his thigh holster and from inside of his boot. You find another small pistol attached to his boot, and you sigh as you unload it the same. Your hands find the buckles of his thigh holsters, and when you slide it off of him, you settle on your knees and tip your head back to look up at him.

He caresses the back of your head, and you swear you hear him purr. You lean forward, pressing your cheek to where his belt is. You kiss there, right against his zipper, and his fingers tangle into your hair just enough for you to feel a little pressure. He’s still gentle, still kind, but his eyes are so dark. You wonder if the way he looks at you now is the way he looks at his targets. Is this hunger the same—the same for you as it is to get the job done? They say love and hate are so alike, so intertwined; is that why he keeps coming back? Does he chase this feeling all the time?

What is it that you are?

An addiction? Or a necessity?

You take his dirty clothes from him as he undresses in the bathroom. Shirt, jacket, belt, pants, socks, boxers—you eye him with a smile, biting your lip, and Simon winks at you from under the mask as he slides a big hand down his middle.

“Wot?” He asks. “Like wot y’see, love?”

It would be impossible not to. Thick arms, tattoos on display. Unforgiving muscle and fat. His hands ungloved, you can see the split of his knuckles and the bruising from where he must’ve hit something—someone. Then your eyes skim over the curls just over his cock, which hangs heavy and red between his thighs. Simon has no shame—his nakedness is not something he cares to hide, especially not to you. You stand on your toes and gives his cheek a kiss before taking his clothes to the laundry room.

You’re at the sink when he’s freshly showered. There’s a bottle of peroxide next to you, and you’re wearing gloves, and he watches as you have his pants half in the sink as you work on scrubbing at the fabric.

“Wot ‘appened?” Simon asks. You hum, shrugging, ringing out a bit of the fabric.

“Just some blood. I’ll get it out. What do you want to eat for dinner, baby?”

Simon thinks that’s the moment he knew he was in love with you. Hair pinned back, baby pink matching lounge outfit with the tiniest shorts he’s ever fucking seen, scrubbing out the blood from his clothes as you talk about supper.

He knows he was fucked from the moment he met you—but it’s now that he knows he’ll never leave.

He’s reminded again of that feeling when you call him angrily from your flat. He’s pushing a trolly in the store, eyes sweeping over the selection of chocolate in the baking section. You were baking chocolate scones and would be making some ganache tomorrow, and he’s squinting at the paper you gave him with your list when his phone starts ringing.

“‘ello, love?”

“Simon, are you serious?!”

“Wot happened?”

“There’s—Simon! There’s a grenade in…in the jar!”

“Wot’s tha’?”

“The jar with my powdered sugar. I found a grenade in there!”

“Oh. Mmm. Right. Leave it there.”

“Simon! And are you taping ninja stars under my tables? I found two already!”

“Dunno. But sounds like someone ‘ad a good idea, wanted t’be prepared, y’should leave them there.”

“Simon, you are—” There’s a pause, and then he smiles under the mask when you laugh. “Just get my chocolate and get back here, please.”

You have no idea what Simon was talking about. You don’t understand what it is that he was running from. There’s so much of himself that he was meant to show to someone else. He’s been hiding for so long, and not just underneath the mask he wears—but there’s a man under it all, and you love when he comes out to meet you.

Maybe he is a little terrible. Maybe he really is just the thing you don’t need. You think about that a little too long when the water in the sink runs red again, his shirt an entirely different color from whatever it is that he had done before he got home. Maybe he really is wrong for you—it crosses your mind when you’re dusting the shelves and find a loaded pistol in the vase that used to hold your apology tulips.

He lives an entirely different life than you. He drags colors into your home that you tried so hard not to embrace, all the black and blue and grey that you’ve always felt could swallow your entire self—but you don’t know what the alternative is. There is no one else in the world that looks at you the way that he does. There isn’t anyone’s hand that feels the way his does when it’s against the side of your face or tangled between the strands of your hair or warm between your thighs.

You don’t think anyone else would mean it if they saw you crying and threatened to kill whoever had made you so sad; because he does mean it, doesn’t he? He would do it if you asked, wouldn’t he?

That’s love; you’re convinced it is. Love is the boundaries you say you won’t cross that you step right over without thinking. Love is the places you say you could never go that are already behind you. Love—real love—is the doorway that Simon keeps passing through even though he promises you that this is the last time whenever he leaves.

“Look at me—ha, Simon!—look here.” You fit the headband onto over his head, fitting the cat ears on top of his head. He grunts a little, sighing through his nose, and you warm up the makeup remover between your hands. Delicately, you start to rub it into his face. He closes his eyes, and you carefully work your fingers against his skin as the eye-black begins to run easily. “Almost done.”

You use a warm cloth to wipe his face. The eye-black comes off, but the scars remain, and when he opens his eyes, you know that you haven’t really taken anything away from him. There’s still something that weighs heavy on his shoulders, and you lean forward to get closer to him, keeping your voice quiet.

“What was it this time?” You ask, putting both hands on his face and keeping his eyes on yours. He blinks, and he goes somewhere else. He’s thinking about it. There’s something he’s looking at, somewhere far away, over your shoulder.

“He begged me not to,” Simon murmurs. “Told me their names.”

Moms. Dads. Partner. Children. They always have names at the end—as if attaching themselves to another will make their deaths harder. Men are singular beings. Rarely are they life support for another.

“It’s okay,” you tell Simon. You close your eyes as you rest your cheek against his.

“It is?”

“Uh huh.” It’s so warm here, arms around him, face tucked against his. “I forgive you.”

It’s okay. I forgive you. Everything is just as it should be.

“Y’don’t know wot I did,” Simon counters. “Wot I…got outta him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say softly. You squeeze the towel out, wetting it again with warm water before passing it over his face again. You hold him under his chin, catching the droplets of water, and you smile as you kiss his nose gently. “It never does. Never will.”

“But—”

“I made your favorite,” you interrupt, plucking the cat ears off of him and tossing everything into the laundry basket. “There’s brownies in the kitchen. I want you to try.”

Is Simon really committing heinous war crimes when his reward is chocolate decadence and wet pussy?

You look so cute. You’re wearing a flowery pajama set, tiny shorts and cropped shirt, something that leaves nothing to the imagination as he pulls the gusset of your panties to the side and sinks into you easily. You brace yourself against the back of the couch, sitting up in his lap. Simon groans when your tits are right in his face, pebbled nipples poking through your shirt fabric, and he reaches up to pinch them between greedy fingers as you sit right down on his dick and take him to the tilt.

“Fuuuuuuuuck—” Simon breathes. The wet squelch is making his head spin. His wet girl, his pretty girl, his sweet girl. He sharpens his teeth when he leaves, and you dull them when he comes home, letting him sink his teeth into you and eat. You keep him in balance; the push and pull that he always felt he struggled with is nonexistent now that you’re here. When Ghost used to get put back into his duffel, Simon felt like what was left behind was almost too much to take. The nightmares, the torture, the disregard for what was moral in favor of what got the job done—it is gone with you. Your absolution resolves him of this debt.

How can he feel he’s done anything wrong when you’re calling him teddy bear and taking his cock like this?

You drag the hem of your shirt up slowly, and when your tits are bouncing, bare and sweaty in front of his face, Simon loses his train of thought. His mouth falls open, tongue hanging out, and you cup the back of his neck to draw him close until his lips wrap around your nipple and suck. You whimper, keeping him there, slowing your hips to watch him let go for just long enough to spit on your chest and lick it right back up.

“Feels so good, teddy bear,” you whine. “You’re so big…” You wiggle your hips until just the tip of him is inside you, and then you sit back down, drawing out a long moan from the both of you. His hands fall to cup under your thighs, and you feel like you’re melting as his tip prods against a squishy spot inside of you and makes you see double. You grab onto his shoulders, digging your nails in, crying. “Oh—right t-there, baby—right there—”

“Right there, swee’eart?”

“Mhm! M-More…”

“My sweet girl,” he mumbles, and you squeak when he grips the fabric of your shorts, grunting as he tears the fabric apart. His fingers cup both sides of your ass, spreading them, using the new leverage he has on you to start picking you up and bouncing you with nothing but sheer strength. You’re thick everywhere that he needs you to be—hips, stomach, thighs, all the perfect places he hopes any girl he’s with will be. They never quite had it the way you do; when his fingers dig and feel nothing but softness, he hisses because it feels so good to grab onto you. It makes his mouth water. It makes him so fucking hungry. It makes his cock ache and his balls heavy, and he’s going to come if he keeps seeing your breasts sway like that as you take his cock so well. “Fuck—” He shakes his head. “Fuck!”

You lick into his mouth just as he loses control. Fingers under his chin, tongue around his teeth as he holds you down on his lap and fills you nice and warm. Your hips stutter, and he lets you lean back just enough so you can touch your clit and squeeze around him. You look down between your bodies, touching tenderly where you’re connected, like you’re fascinated by how much of him fits inside of you.

You settle after a few minutes. You rest your palms on his chest, squishy muscle supporting you as you lift your hips and let him out. You lean over him, whining when you feel fluid slipping down your thighs and gathering underneath you.

“You’re thinking too much,” you whisper as you slip your shirt back on. Simon hums as he holds you in his lap, cock twitching as he watches you move your hair out of your eyes and lick your own fingers.

“Got a lot on my mind,” is all Simon gives you. You let your knee fall open, and you use your fingers to swirl between your folds before you guide them up and into Simon’s mouth. He chuckles, taking them, and you lean forward to kiss his cheek just as you pull your fingers back out.

“You’re not supposed to think about things,” you murmur. “How many times do I have to tell you, Simon?” You cup one side of his face, making him look at you. “You could never do something wrong. Everything is okay.” You smile. “You believe me, don’t you, teddy bear?”

It’s so easy to believe you when you look at him like that. You’re so pretty—you always are. There is nothing terrible about your mind. Your brain isn’t rotten between the flesh as his must be. There is no blood forever under your fingernails, and you don’t sleep thinking about the graveyards you fill with your heavy hand. You don’t know what it feels like to have a gun burn in your palm, and you’ve never heard the screaming of someone who only has one limb left to spare. You don’t know how long it takes before a father will give up his children, and you’ve never seen your tombstone so clearly that the callous of your hands feel like the rock it’s made of.

Whatever you say must be true. Whatever you forgive him of must be good enough. There is nothing you cannot give, and there is nothing you can say that won’t be absolute reality. He feels like he poisons you every time he touches you, but when he takes his hands away, the skin underneath looks the same, and your smile never fades. You don’t bruise like other people do when he puts a hand on them. You don’t flinch when he raises his arm. You don’t scream when he comes close to you.

He hears your laughter wherever he goes. He’s kneeling now, bone digging into the ground as he lifts up his arm that holds a blade high. The bullet would be quicker, but this feels better. It pierces the neck, flesh giving away to its sharpness like a hot knife through butter, and Ghost licks over his teeth as he watches something sacred leave their eyes. For a moment, he feels bad about what he’s done. He closes his eyes, squeezing them shut, looking for his alternate reality.

I am no good. There is nothing good in me. I am not made of it.

There you are. Sitting on your knees between his thighs, cheek nuzzled against his jeans, sparkly, glossy lips curled into a wicked smile as you fist his cock and coo up at him. When you kiss his tip, you leave it shining, and then your tongue comes out of your mouth, and it’s over for him. There is a heaven inside of you. When you suck, his mind blurs, and his jaw aches with how hard he clenches it as you dip your head and take him deep. You whine because you like it. No one’s ever liked Ghost the way you like him. No one’s ever seen the mask and giggled the way you do. There’s no one that looked at the layers he’s made of and thought to use their fingers to lift them up to tuck themselves inside. His shell is not a barrier, it’s merely an illusion, and there you are—blinking up at him, bouncing in that sunflower sweater, wet eyes like diamonds. He feels warmth in his hands, and he thinks it’s from how hard he’s just come, but when he opens his eyes, it’s merely blood soaking into the fabric of his gloves.

The house is dark when he comes home. The cat is staring at him from her spot by the window, blinking slowly as he toes off his boots and passes by her with a soft scratch under her chin. He finds you in your bed, face against your silk pillow, wearing fuzzy purple pajamas and hugging a well-loved stuffed bear. Your nightlight is on, casting soft shadows of a moon and her stars, and Ghost finds himself watching you for more than just a moment. He stays there in the doorway, rooted to the spot, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you snooze.

You wake up when the bed dips from his weight. Groggily, your hand moves, searching for him, and when you find the fabric of his hoodie, you close your fist around it and pull him until he’s nearly on top of you.

You taste sweet. When you kiss, Ghost chases the sugar sweet that still lingers on your lips, and you seek the ash from the cigarette he smoked outside. Your knees fall open, and Ghost settles between them. Too big, but he forces himself there anyways, one big arm wrapping around you and under your back before he yanks it into an arch and bites against the side of your neck. Where he saw blood earlier, all he sees is the give of your skin under his teeth. Instead of begging, instead of screaming, he hears your soft whine, a breathy call of his name that makes his cock so hard, he has to yank down the zipper of his jeans before he cuts himself on it.

Where he saw death in their eyes, he finds nothing like it in your own. When he is inside of you again, he tells himself he’ll never leave. His body has new purpose, and this is it.

You’re sleepy all over again once you come. Draped over his chest, palm rubbing against his solid middle, legs tangled between his. You smile at him as he turns his head to look at you, and he slips his hand under the hem of your shirt to caress you at the base of your spine.

“Good day at work?” You mumble, snuggling into his side. Simon tightens his grip on your middle. When he feels the flesh squish under his hand, he breathes nice and easy. Just what he expected. Exactly as he prefers.

“Good day, love.”

“You got all the bad guys, teddy bear?”

Simon licks his lips. He thinks about who had the unfortunate opportunity of being at the end of his scope today, and he thinks about who it’ll be tomorrow. He likes this routine. It satiates something nasty in him, but he’s never been quiet about the way it makes him feel. It’s what drew you to him, wasn’t it? He told you about all the horrible things that exist in his head, and you’re still here, you’re still in his bed—it wasn’t enough to push you away, so there’s no need to hide this dark truth from you. If anything, you might want to go again.

His cock twitches at the thought.

“No,” Simon tells you, and you shrug, closing your eyes.

“That’s okay. There’s still tomorrow.”

Simon feels something ache under his ribs when you say it—like taking the words straight out of his mouth. You are so in tune, it would scare him if he wasn’t already convinced that you were meant for him.

But even if you weren’t, I’d chain you to this bed. Never let you go.

He wonders what color your blood runs. He doesn’t think it would be red—you’re too pretty to have blood be such a color. Maybe it’s pink. Purple. Maybe it’s yellow. Maybe it glitters just like the sparkles you love to wear.

Maybe it runs black. Maybe, underneath it all, you and Simon are one and the same. Maybe you are rotten inside. Maybe you’re an illusion, too, maybe what he sees is just a mirror-view, and the real you hides and plays your limbs with puppet strings and masks the horrible, terrible, evil things that live inside of you—

You pat his chest a little, pouting, an annoyed breath leaving you as you close your eyes.

“Go to sleep, Simon. It’s late.”

It is late. You’re right. Always right, his smart girl, always telling him how he needs to hear it so his mind settles and his body relaxes.

It’s okay.

Isn’t it?

I forgive you.

He can never do anything wrong.

Everything is just as it should be.

Everything is just as it should be.

[lassiie]

HACKER!STEPBRO HEESEUNG - TRAPPED.

The one where your antisocial stepbro pretends he's not obsessed—while secretly hacking you, jerking off to your secrets, and discovering about your desire. He’s obsessed… And you'll use it.

BEST TO READ IN DARK MODE FOR EFFECTS

CONTENT ↠ nsfw! mdni!, smut, angsty toxic Heeseung, obsessive, psychosexual dark vibes step bro Heeseung, stalker heeseung, if I can't have you no one can typpa heeseung, deep voyeurism kink, needy/pervy/manipulative reader, strong depiction of fantasies, sexual tension, consensual edging, p in the v, overstimulation, , light choking, public act, bad behavior's reader.

WORDCOUNT ↠ 9k (not proof read enough.. damn...)

Was literally obsessed with those two songs when writing this : https://open.spotify.com/intl-fr/album/4OFZVvqlg84Czl7td7XddK?si=rakigTTnSJyY8CnPyp8A7w

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Heeseung barely glanced up the first time you met.

Not when your mom introduced you, her laugh sharp and grating over the clink of designer glassware. Not when she called you her little angel, like she hadn’t spent the last decade ignoring your existence—like a piece of cloth begging to be brought back just because it’s trendy now. And definitely not when you smiled at him like you actually meant it.

He just slouched further into his hoodie—hood up, sleeves covering half his hands like armor. Said something that might’ve been “hey,” but it sounded more like: I don’t give a shit.

You smiled anyway. Quiet, composed. Like you didn’t notice he hadn’t met your eyes yet, hadn’t even registered the color of his irises. He had a good face, for sure. And a nice name. Heeseung. Hee—seung.

Let’s try not to forget it…

He’s Heeseung—the one who doesn't match the luxury flooring or manicured smiles. Heeseung, who looked more interested in his phone screen than the pricey piece of steak he’d just been served.

You—

You were different. And Heeseung noticed.

Because other girls—especially the daughters of his father’s revolving door of Stepford wives—always played the same game: almost flirty, too fake, self-obsessed, and excited to be part of the family. You… you were calmer. Almost shy. Ashamed to even call your mom “Mom.” You were also interested in his presence—lightly tapping his foot with yours, giving him those apologetic doe eyes, like: Sorry that my shameless mom got a grip on your already-married dad just to milk him dry…

But it’s not like he divorced his mom for yours. And it’s not like you were the first one. Generally, the other step-siblings never asked about him. Never cared to know what lay beneath the hoodie-tortured-kid style he wore like armor.

You?

You looked at him like he was a person. Like you saw something he didn’t even believe was still there. And with months—and then a year—maybe… you liked what you saw.

You asked questions. Not the fake kind. Real ones.

“You coded that game on your own?”

“You really won a national contest?”

“That glitch mechanic you added… did you write it from scratch?”

He wasn’t used to that kind of attention. Not anymore.

You leaned over his laptop one afternoon, wide-eyed, genuinely impressed. Your breath was warm on his shoulder, the scent of vanilla and soft detergent clinging to your hoodie—one he was almost sure used to be his.

“You’re kind of a genius,” you’d said, and smiled that smile. Soft. Easy. Like you weren’t afraid of him.

Because why would you be? You were always so nice and caring to him. You’d bring him a plate of food when his dad never cared to check even once. Leave Post-its with sweet pep talks before exams—ones that made him smile for the first time in a decade. Sit silently beside him after he got scolded for placing second on the honor board. Your hand, always soft and peach-scented, would stroke his hair like he wasn’t eight months older. And your eyes—so sweet when they met his.

You weren’t supposed to make him feel things.

And he wasn’t supposed to want someone like you.

But there you were. Not just prim—but infuriatingly so. You weaponized it. You made being stuck-up look like a goddamn virtue. All perfect posture and polite smiles. Still, something was off. Like how you made him open up to you, but never really talked about yourself—your life, your past. Always mysterious, always evasive when he got curious, always turning the tables on him.

You… you made him feel watched. Seen. Known. And he didn’t like not knowing you back. Because he needed to know everything. It was pathological. Every variable that could disturb his life. Every secret. And you—you were the unknown variable. The only one he couldn’t figure out.

And the worst part?

Heeseung couldn’t match you. He wasn’t good with people. Never had been. Getting you to open up? Never happening. He even got tense in crowds. Even if girls liked him, he couldn't maintain relationships beyond hookups. He could throw a punch, sure—but he'd rather let the other guy walk off with a smirk, too bored to bother.

But he was good at something: systems. Code. Surveillance.

So he broke the rules he’d promised himself he wouldn’t—with you.

He hacked your devices.

He shouldn’t have connected to them. Shouldn’t have hijacked your phone. Shouldn’t have hacked your webcam feed like it was just another game level to conquer.

It started innocent—ish. Really. Just some harmless digital snooping. New mother, new stepsister, weird vibes, potential threat to his peace and privacy—totally justifiable.

But your passwords were laughable. The kind of thing a middle schooler could crack.

Seriously. “Bookworm123”?

Please.

After all he was Mr. Cybersecurity Prodigy. Award-winning code monkey. VPN for his VPN, two-factor-auth god.

And he peeked. Just a little…

Your instagram private account, that your mom swore you didn’t have because “socials medias was too destructive for her future doctor of a child.”

Your spotify. Pinterest boards. You’re files.

like essays about behavioral neuroscience and a note named “journaling” : Plans. Rage. Angry rebellion written between textbook reviews. Your escape plan : college far away, control of your own life, zero influence from Barbie and her string of Stepdads. How you craved more. Your identity crisis, GPA fetishist, and how competitive you were to the point of mania. Basically, a mirror of Heeseung in the shape of someone who tried to play the hero of his narrative.

Then, it got worse.

Because curiosity became fixation. He was too deep for it not to be.

On sleepless nights, Heeseung discovered things he absolutely shouldn't.

That his straight A’s and volunteering hours stepsister — was actually sneaking off to frat party with her friends, just feel alive, get waisted and let some sophomore finger her.

The music you fall asleep to, your “fuck” playlist too — the one you wouldn’t admit to owning even under threat of death.

That habit of yours to flirt with strangers like you had a death wish or just want to be ruined so badly being jailed would be for your own good. 

That you send cropped pics, no face — just enough tits and thighs, to creeps then ghost them when they beg to meet, just to feel seen.

And he knew the kind of porn you watched on school nights, after wishing him sweet dreams. Earphones on, lips between your t-shirt collar like you’re scared someone might hear you in that big mansion. And what killed him is how fucking rough it is. Spit. Hair-pulling. Throat-fucking. Girls like you weren’t supposed to want that. Girls like you were supposed to blush and look away, like when he got too close. You’re supposed to be horrified at things like that — not get off to it at 1:38 a.m.

He discovered your texts with that secret boyfriend of yours. How badly he treated you—and how you let him, just to feel owned, loved. He knew when you snuck in those late-night FaceTimes, shirt half-off, hand between your thighs, playing the loyal girlfriend for him and his pathetic dick.

And Heeseung? He was obsessed with that version of you—the one he didn’t even dare to fantasize about, yet you handed to him on a silver plate.

Your self-care sessions got him hard under his desk. Got him jerking off to the way your fingers curled around your own throat in the dim hue of your bedroom, playing at power, pretending you didn’t crave being broken open.

You were too good at pretending. Sitting across from him, blouse crisp, smiling like a poetry award was the climax of your week. What a goddamn lie.

But at least he’d seen you now. Most of you. And he understood better. Understood your issues. But something in him snapped. Because this wasn’t just about obsession anymore. It wasn’t about lust. Or even protection.

It was about you.

And how you made him feel real again.

How you gave him a purpose.

You didn’t flinch when he glared. Didn’t avoid him at dinner. You just smiled, slid him your extra fries, and asked about the AI competition like it mattered. You looked at him like he was a person. Not a project. Not a problem. Not a hacker. Not a delinquent. Not some mistake his father regretted.

And that… made you dangerous. Because now you were a necessity. Something—someone—he cared about. He did want to protect you.

But he also wanted to own you.

To erase the line between your bedroom and his. Between your thoughts and his access. Between your gasps at night and his name.

You weren’t supposed to get close. You weren’t supposed to care.

And he wasn’t supposed to fall for you.

Fall for you?

...

But now what ?

You were the virus in his system.

The girl who said “good job” when he didn’t ask for praise. Who laughed when no one else did. Who touched his shoulder once—just once—and left him with a twitch in his fingers he couldn’t debug.

But you were a line of code he couldn’t rewrite. A live feed he couldn’t turn off.

And maybe, if he watched long enough—if he memorized every breath, every sigh, every single unguarded look—you wouldn’t disappear like the others.

Maybe, if he learned your pattern…he could break you open before you broke him.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d want him to. Even if it meant losing something. Even if it meant pulling you into the dark with him… and never letting you go.

Now you were sitting across from him. You spare him a glance while structuring your salad like a freak, with those doe eyes and he’s hard. Hard at a family dinner while they talked business.

Suddenly his breath catches your feet touching under the table. Like questioning, you good ?

Yeah it’s me, Heeseung. That sweet voice of yours haunting his head. 

His foot slides slower in between your legs mindlessly and when you almost jolt, he realizes. 

“gotta go sleep.” he blurred, rushing off the table. “Tomorrow is exam day.”

Fuck, he wants more. More of your secrets.More of you—the real you.

So he turned on your webcam, night after night, and your phone’s, and tab. like you were his favorite streamer, his favorite radio mc, the best sound to sleep. Like you wanted him to fantasise, think of it every night… 

You were stretched across your bed, laughing into your phone, wearing nothing but a tank and panties, circling your finger on your belly mindless. The way girls do when they forget they’re being watched.

You laid out your clothes for the next day like some little honor-roll princess—giggling when your friend called you a chaebol, and you shrug her off. 

But the way you lingered on the lace you never wear… the silk you only sleep on alone… the sheer pieces he has never seen— holding them up to your chest, slow movements like the reflection was his to tell you what to wear. It was fucking foreplay. You were a fucking siren, with your fucking hair finally down, and those dumb big scare glasses off. 

And him ?

Heeseung…

He was already crashing on the rocks. He was a black-hat addict no-full-blown cyber-pervert. rock hard, mindlessly stroking his bulge at the sheer form of you in unmatched underwears.

So innocent. So mine.

Some days later, you knocked on his door while your parents were off circling the globe, allergic to stillness and obligations. Your hair was tied up but messier than usual, cheeks sun-kissed, eyes almost red—like you’d cried.

God, if someone made you cry… I’d kill them.

You held two glasses of soda, dripping with condensation. No way you could deny you’d been pacing by his door for the last hour.

“What are you up to, genius? I’m bored,” you said, voice half-curious, half-something else.

Heeseung—fool, addict, liar—let you in. Let you get too close. Showed you things he shouldn’t because you asked with that look that made him feel like a god, not a glitch. But also made him wonder who had made you sad enough to want to change your mind.

Still, you smiled at his screens like they were art. Touched his keyboard like it was sacred. No step-sister had ever looked at him like that before—hell, no one actually had. Fuck, he needed to focus. Focus on you, not you.

“You really made all this?”

He nodded, trying not to smirk, trying not to shake. His fingers danced across the keys like a seduction.

“Wanna see something fun?”

A window blinked open. He typed some commands, and grainy footage appeared: the neighbor’s yard. Middle-aged man with hedge clippers, snipping bonsai like manicuring his soul.

He tapped more keys. Suddenly, sprinklers roared to life. The neighbor shrieked, dropped the shears, and bolted.

You burst out laughing, collapsing into him, palm against his chest. That sound—reckless, sweet—made something snap inside him. It wasn’t just pride. It was possession. You weren’t weirded out. You liked it. Liked him. Not the fake polite way. The way that made him want to caress your cheek and kiss those red eyes.

But he was a coward—or your strongest soldier, as he liked to call himself. One who wanted you close, for good, not some fling you’d regret like the others he barely tolerated. No, he wanted you for life—and he was in the perfect position, as long as your parents behaved.

Then your eyes met. Dangerous idea sparking. You dared him with your gaze, then dashed out of his room.

“Try it on my bedroom camera!” you shouted, disappearing down the hall, hoodie flapping like a flag.

Fuck. If only you knew he was already connected.

Moments later — Cam03: Her Bedroom Feed lit up.

You stood in front of the lens—he used to fuck himself to thoughts of you—starry-eyed as he purposefully reactivated the red dot, signaling it was on. Made a mental note to re-enable it later.

You waved. Smiled like sin. Mouthing: “See me?”

He choked. Because yes—he saw you. Always had. But now? Now you saw him.

Like you always knew.

You reached for your top, lifted the hem just enough to flash bare skin, then darted out of frame, laughing like it was a game.

His chest burned. Panic and arousal mixed in his bloodstream like a drug. Heeseung’s brain broke.

But he didn’t shut it down. He couldn’t. Instead, he gave in. His trembling fingers dimmed your room’s lights, shifting godspeed to soft pink. He knew it was your favorite. Knew too much.

Then he started your playlist—the one with soft beats, gentle melody, moonstruck, your favorite.

You paused in the doorway. Turned just enough for the camera to catch you again. Smiled with pure fascination, like a kid. You should’ve been afraid. But you weren’t.

You looked at the cam again, really looked, like he was the sweetest boy, and you didn’t care much what he was capable of—because it was him.

You walked back to his door, dripping sunlight and mischief.

“That was so cool,” you said, high-fiving him like your heart wasn’t thundering. Like you hadn’t just exposed the darkest part of him and come back wanting more. “Can you, like… track people? Their phones or whatever?”

Heeseung blinked. “I-if their GPS is on. Or if they ping the network.”

You tilted your head. Bit your lip. “…Wanna play hide and seek?”

He scoffed in disbelief, but there was a glint behind his eyes—half challenge, half thrill. Like he’d just been dared to play a game he already knew the rules to.

He grabbed his laptop. The mansion was too big. Too full of shadows, quiet corners. A maze of marble, high ceilings, inherited guilt.

Heeseung sat somewhere, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

You texted him: “find me.” One signal. One flare. Then silence.

He tracked you through your phone GPS—chose not to use the hallway cams, even though he easily could have. Something intimate, invasive, about watching your little red dot move on his map. Every time he walked to you was an ode to the game only you two could play.

Library.

“Checkmate. You’re here.”

“Wow! So you really can!”

West Wing.

“If I’m facing a mirror, it’s too easy… not even fun.”

“Fuck…”

Wine Cellar.

“If you’re trying to get drunk, pick the 2007 Bordeaux.”

You laughed.

The pool.

He stuck to the GPS. The red dot blinking. Stalling. Then disappearing.

You texted: “find me now.”

His screen dimmed like the whole house was holding its breath.

Heeseung’s pulse quickened. GPS cut out. No new pings. He tried again. Twice. Three times. Nothing.

Every nerve in his body was a wire of curiosity. The air heavy with chlorine and humidity as he stepped toward the pool deck, leaving his computer by the bar.

Then he found it—your phone, face down on the stone near the pool.

But you, where—

“Got you!” You leapt.

Laughter, bare legs, hoodie off. Heeseung didn’t have time to react before you crashed into him—both of you tumbling into the water with a splash that shattered the silence.

You surfaced first, grinning like a devil. “You can’t find me if I don’t want you to, huh?” you teased, flicking water at him.

Heeseung stared at you, laughing mid-cough. Clothes heavy. Hair plastered to his forehead. The water clung to your skin in a way that made his hands twitch under the surface. You floated closer then. Then reached out and hooked your fingers in his bangs, stroking them like you always did. Then tugging gently.

“How about I cut your hair?” you whispered, too close to him not to have his eyes linger on your lips. “We’re starting university soon. Can’t show up like some code-goblin, right?”

He snorted. But you two didn’t move. Just watched each other's souls for too long. Heart hammering. Skin burning. You were in his pool. In his arms now. In his system.

“Are you okay?”

He, with the most considering eyes a family member ever gave you. But you just nodded to his biggest displeasure. Something was wrong, yeah.

Actually, everything was wrong. And surely something was wrong with you. You felt trapped. In your studies, in your relationship, in these always-new families, in your boring unstable life. You wanted more. More attention, more love, more recognition, more freeness, just more…

You weren't special like Heeseung. You couldn’t clap your fingers and get that video back from your so-called boyfriend—he threatened to leak it if you ever thought of leaving him again. Couldn’t clap your fingers and make a scholarship appear on your forms for university, and couldn’t clap your fingers to make you go to your best choice without the biggest loan you can think about.

But it was better to tell him everything was okay. Because if you didn't fake it… you’d be dead by now.

And maybe it’s the weather, or his concerned look, or his trembling hands on your ribs—not too low, not too high. But it felt good being with Heeseung, even better seeing the way he looked at you—you really had a problem.

“Can you… like… if I ever asked you…”

“What?” He came closer, almost locking in his hands. “Tell me…”

“If someday I needed you, would you… like… help me if I have something very complicated to solve... like… you know, math.” You laughed it off like you weren't about to ask him to get that sextape back.

He nodded so obediently it hurt. Fuck, you had him in the palm of your hand without doing anything more than just letting him watch. Deny his ever-growing desire. Playing this game you caught him in.

Yeah… maybe you really were what your mom made out of you… sadly.

After that, Heeseung was like a man on a mission. He hacked every piece of info he could find on that deep shit. Until he found it… your complicated math exercise…

A tap of you and him. Filmed like you weren’t aware of it. Heeseung couldn’t find the courage to watch it…

Until he did.

And it was everything he ever fantasized doing with you.

I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him.

That guy needed to be out of your life.

Now.

He could frame him for anything he wanted. Crash his Tesla. His mind was spiraling as he bit on his nail, replaying that video again and again and again. Zooming on you.

I’ll protect you.

First, you needed an escape. Easy—that guy already cheated on you with so many girls, it was easy for you to catch him. So he wrote a fantasy he hoped you’d fall for. He drafted messages from your bf’s phone. A fake date. Something sweet, just enough like your boyfriend to pass.

“Meet me tonight baby girl. Just us. Let’s talk. 9PM. My room.”

“Baby girl…” you hated that name, but still couldn’t refuse him. And now Heeseung understood.

You saw it, and for a second, you believed. He watched you re-read it, then start getting ready—lip gloss, that fluttery dress, even that nervous little smile like it still meant something.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend was across campus, buried in someone else. Moaning her name. Careless, as always.

Heeseung watched it all—your hope fading when you opened that door, his betrayal, his choke. Your silence. Her grasp. One earbud in, one eye on every camera feed you both could offer.

You left the place in a rush, your phone starting to buzz as Heeseung watched every message your now-ex boyfriend sent you. You found yourself drifting in a club. You needed air, music, and drinks.

The music wasn’t even that good, your drink, not that strong. You didn’t plan to dance. And you didn’t plan for some no-brain guy with smooth hands to hit on you.

And you almost let him have his way near the bathrooms. Just to forget the sound of your phone. Forget that you had to go back to that guy until he decided he’d had enough or leaked the tape.

Almost.

Until Heeseung’s hand was on your wrist, showing up out of nowhere to pull you away.

“Heeseung?”

He got you out of the club, his hand digging into your wrist. The car ride was dead silent. Heeseung looked pissed. You were hollow, but not dumb. And you let him snap.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

You didn’t answer.

“... Don’t you have a bf?”

Still silent. Tears welled up before you could blink them back, and Heeseung was at a loss for words. Yeah, it was that easy to shush him—crocodile cries easy.

“Stop crying…” he muttered, but he looked panicked now. Like your tears were acid on his skin. “Tell me what’s going on?”

Like he didn’t know.

But you had to play it well. Make him do it tonight, and no other night.

“He cheated…”

“Then leave him…”

“I can’t…” Hee looked at you with fake wonder. “He filmed me once… and…”

He nodded, enough to tell you you didn’t need to keep going.

When you got home, Heeseung took your hand before you stormed into your room, and he watched you—really watched—and got in a hug. Caressing your hair, getting closer to your ear, “I'll help you.”

You almost feared he could feel your smile. You detached your head with the saddest questioning expression.

“I’ll protect you,” he said, the heaviest stare he ever gave you.

You just nodded like you weren’t expecting much. When you actually wanted exactly what he gave you.

Back in your room, you kept re-seeing Heeseung’s expression. Almost mad, almost dangerous.

And you. You wanted more. You wanted everything—not just protection, but revenge. Revenge for the time you lost on that guy, for your virginity you couldn’t bring back, for the stress… for everything.

So you opened your laptop. Placed your phone next to it like it’s part of the performance. You know he’s watching.

You know.

Heeseung, on his part, got in his room ready to execute the next part of his plan when the ping of your camera alerts him. But tonight is not the night. After seeing you like that, he doesn't want to do that.

So he started to undress. Until—

“Heeseung?”

His head snapped to his monitor. WTF.

“You’re here, no? I mean, you’re watching.”

He almost fell on the ground, unable to walk straight to his computer.

What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What?

The webcam light doesn’t flicker on right away when you open it.

You look at your reflection. This webcam is better than the last time you used it. Wide-angle. Pretty high-def. You can see almost your entire room. Bed. Closet. Console. The mirror angled just right to show the bathroom.

God. You made it so easy for him.

You let your fingers lazily drift to your dress straps. In a slow reveal. You watch yourself in the camera—legs tucked just right to keep mystery intact. Eyes locked on the return. You open your—

“You like it when I do that?” You looked almost innocent doing it. What the fuck were you doing, Heeseung’s mind screamed. “You want more?”

Heeseung was stunned. Too many questions. Too many desires.

He didn’t even respond, his hand mindlessly disconnecting your camera’s red dot and reconnecting again like Morse.

“Then ruin him for me. Make him as ashamed as I was.”

You were pulling his obsession like strings. A puppet master in silk cloth. The light on the webcam flickered once again.

You smiled, slowly nodding. “Good night, Heeseung.” Shut it all down.

By morning, half the campus was infected with a juicy little virus: dozens of very compromising photos of your now-ex, including a special feature of him being pegged by none other than his mom’s best friend.

Iconic.

The breakup text? Already sent. Blocked him before your brain even had a chance to process.

You didn’t see him all day. No dinner, no open door when you brought snacks. Nothing.

Maybe you really fucked up. Poor Heeseung, thinking you were innocent, only to find out you were just like everyone else—grey, messy, complicated.

But just before bed, your phone lit up. A note. Your password written clear on the screen.

You sat frozen, eyes flickering between the note that started typing on its own, and the webcam pointed right at you.

“I’ll always protect you.”

Then, an mp4 file popped up. Your lips curved into a shy smile.

You almost said something, but instead, you tapped beneath his words:

“Thank you, Heeseung. I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t there.”

The cursor blinked, paused—like he was thinking hard about what to say next.

“I protect what’s mine.”

Your eyes drifted to the webcam. “Am I?”

“Aren’t you?”

Your gaze dropped shyly, biting your lip to keep the smile from slipping out. Fuck, it was hot—this obsessive, protective boy who’d kill for you.

“I am…” you breathed, fingers playing with the thin straps of your dress.

“Maybe?”

Slowly, you peeled it off. No bra. No panties. Just you—bare, glowing in the soft light of your screen.

Heeseung’s side: panting mess. Trembling. Rock hard. Watching was always intense, but this? His brain shorted out. Every movement you made poured fuel on the fire in his chest—the way you loosened your hair, slid off your glasses, shy but teasing.

Your voice slipped through his headphones like a spell.

“Tell me what you want,” you breathed. “I’ll do it. As a thank you.”

He was nearly feral, watching you perched like a dream made just for him. But now you wanted him to take the lead. For once, you wanted control handed over.

And for a long, heavy moment, silence.

Then, a new line in your notes:

“Anything?”

You nodded, lips parting.

Another line.

“Touch yourself.”

“For me.”

You rose, heading for your bed.

Then:

“No. Here.”

You sat back down. Fully exposed. The chair never felt colder. The electricity on your skin was undeniable—the weight of someone watching, devouring every move.

You shivered. Something folded inside, vulnerable but not scared.

Then your screen flickered.

A video opened.

Porn.

But not just any porn. A girl like you—same frame, soft lighting. She was in a gaming chair, legs parted, cat headphones, a pink toy buzzing between her thighs. Moaning like she’d been waiting for eyes to watch.

You blinked. The message was loud and clear.

Your breath caught—not shocked, but challenged.

Back to the webcam—doe eyes, tempted. Your fingers traced lower, hips shifting, copying her exact position. Mimicry never felt so twisted.

You didn’t hesitate. Your fingers moved.

Heeseung watched like it was a live confession. Pupils dilated, chest heaving, gripping himself tight, trying not to explode too soon.

A message appeared:

“Slower.”

You obeyed, breath shaking, already slick with every stroke.

Another message:

“Fuck, you’re shaking.”

You were. Legs twitching, spine arching against the chair.

You never thought you’d go this far, but he was puppeteering you with his commands.

Then:

“I’ve never seen you like this. Fuck. I want to cum in you. In that chair. Just like that.”

You groaned, eyes fluttering shut, but forced them open—locking onto the lens like it was him.

Another message:

“I want you ruined. For anyone else. Say it.”

You moaned, fingers freezing.

“I’m yours,” you whispered.

“Say it again,” he typed.

“I’m yours, Heeseung.”

The pressure built—right at the edge—

Then:

“Stop.”

“Don’t cum.”

Your breath hitched. You froze mid-stroke, legs trembling.

Another line:

“I said stop. If anyone makes you cum tonight—it’s me.”

Your fingers hovered, shaking. The ache burned deep in your thighs, stomach taut.

But you stopped.

Because his word mattered more than your desire now.

Your screen blinked.

“Get your toy.”

You swallowed, nodded, reached into your drawer.

The vibrator was familiar—sleek, pink, faintly scented from your date-night oil. You rubbed it, coating it with your wetness, then slid it slowly inside, breath heavy.

Then the toy buzzed. Flickered. Came alive.

You gasped—he was controlling it.

Before you could say a word, it pulsed hard. Your body jerked, chair creaking beneath you. Your grip tightened on the arms as pleasure rolled through you like a whip.

“That’s it,” he typed. “Don’t touch it. Just take it.”

You moaned—too much, too fast—your body trembling, legs spreading without control. The sounds you made were filthy, desperate.

Heeseung’s fingers typed again.

“Grip the chair.”

You obeyed.

The toy buzzed harder, relentless and cruel.

“Look at the camera.”

Tears pricked, but you held his gaze—through that little glowing lens. Your thighs trembled, breath catching—

He knew.

He memorized every sound, every gasp, every twitch.

Your climax hit like an explosion—so fierce your back arched from the chair. Toes curled, lips parted in a silent cry.

If only you could hear it—the gasp, the groan, the shuddering moan from his room. Rooms apart, perfectly synced.

You collapsed back against the seat, chest heaving.

The toy powered down. The room fell silent but electric. Only the Notes app stayed open. One final line appears:

“I know your body better than anyone ever will.”

You smile, eyes rolling, calming yourself. You’re still catching your breath when your phone buzzes.

Unknown Caller.

You smirk. Answer it without hesitation.

Hee,” you whisper, lazy satisfaction dripping from your tone.

You hear him—shaky, panting, like the edge nearly broke him. “Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck… You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty. You don’t even know what you do to me.”

His voice is hoarse, frayed with restraint. You picture him—still burning from his climax, hand resting low, skin flushed.

“You drive me insane. Every breath you take, every moan...” He watches you lift your thighs, tucking yourself shyly behind them like a girl playing innocent. “It’s mine. You’re mine. Don’t you get it? I want you so bad I—fuck—I can’t even—”

You cut in softly.

“Heeseung,” you murmur, voice smooth like silk sliding over a blade. “I never said I was yours...”

Silence.

You lean in, sugar-sweet, doe eyes locked on the lens, like you don’t quite know what you’re doing.

“You think this makes me yours?”

He breathes hard. You swear you hear the tension in his throat—how he swallows that growl.

“Then what?” he whispers. “What do I have to do?”

You hum, hiding your face in your thighs, thoughtful. “I’ll know.”

Heeseung almost chokes. “You’re playing with me.”

You tilt your head.

“Of course I am, Hee. Isn’t that what you like? What we always did? Playing games.” Your voice softens, teasing, the tone that always breaks him. “You’re obsessed, Hee. But to own me?” you shake your head slowly. “You’ll have to do more than just watch me cum on camera.”

A pause. You let it hang, let it burn. Then, low and teasing:

“If you really want me,” you whisper. “Stop being a coward. Show me.”

His breath catches. You almost feel the stillness on his end.

Click.

You hang up.

Still smiling, you toss your phone aside.

“Good night, Heeseung,” you murmur to the camera before shutting everything down.

Heeseung hadn’t heard your voice in three days.

Not on the phone, not through the headphones, not even that little intake of breath when you tiptoe around your room late at night.

Three days.

Seventy-two hours of silence.

No webcam flickers. No Notes app replies. No little “good night, Hee” teasing him through pixels.

Nothing.

He tapped at your IP like a lunatic. Pinging dead signals. Checked your cloud for new files. Scraped your cache for cam logs, anything—anything—that might prove you were still playing.

But you weren’t. You’d shut him out completely. Blocked him, in every way that mattered—except the one that destroyed him the most: in person, you were still perfect.

Because in real life, you were still her.

Still the step-sister who sat next to him at dinner, nudging his arm, sipping from his glass like it meant nothing. Still in those stupid soft modest dresses that smelled like your vanilla lotion and innocence. Still saying his name in that sweet voice that didn’t match the girl who once whispered “I’m yours” for a night, while fingering herself in his favorite dress.

Still shy smilling in front of the parents, like he wasn’t slowly going fucking insane of you ghosting him in the cruelest way possible.

Heeseung clenched his jaw until it hurt. His fists, tighter. You were torturing him. Training him with your silence. Denying him touch, sound, ownership—making him feel like just another loser watching from a screen.

And worst of all? You liked it.

He could see it in the way you smiled at him when no one was looking. Like the devil behind a halo. Like the dom who knew her puppy would crawl the moment she said good boy.

You knew what you were doing. And you knew he was starving.

He watched you meet someone new through your messages—tracked him from his first DM. The second the guy sent a heart emoji, Heeseung had full access to his cloud, laptop, phone, and location history.

So when you showed up at that guy’s place in that same dress as that night, Heeseung went feral. watching you through the guy’s hacked MacBook camera. Front-row seat. 1080p. Wide angle. Clear sound. Perfect view.

You didn’t even try to hide untapping your phone camera, angling it for him. But he was already there.

He watched the way you swayed when you walked into the room. That skirt was short—barely legal. Hair done like you were on a mission to ruin him. Lip gloss like you were asking to be kissed. Or owned.

Heeseung’s fists dug into his thigh. You let the guy kiss you. Hands on your hips. Heeseung scoffed in fury. The guy went down on you and Heeseung leaned forward—eyes glued to your face smiling at him. Not for the man.

Only for him.

You mouthed his name, Heeseung, made that sound again—that sweet gasp that cracked every nerve in his body—and his hands were already down his pants before he even realized it. Stroking slowly. Angry.

Then the guy started fucking you. It was… pathetic.

You looked bored. Pretty. But not wrecked. Not how Heeseung would have done you—needed you. Not how you looked when he edged you, whispering commands through your notes.

He texted :

He’s not even close to making you cum.Why are you with him?Stop. 

Now. 

Please.

You didn’t stop. You got louder. Not for performance, because knowing hee was watching, unleashed you.

Heeseung’s hand stuttered. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard it bled. You were performing. For him, not the other guy. You had to be. And yet you didn’t stop when he begged you.

Heeseung didn’t drink. Didn’t smoke. Didn’t call a friend.

He texted one of the girls who’d been orbiting him since he entered university—some pretty, pouty girl with no idea what she was walking into.

She came fast. Obedient. Heeseung fucked her like punishment.

Shoved her onto his lap, dragged her skirt over her hips without a single word. Didn’t ask if she was ready. Didn’t even pretend to care. Just spread her thighs, lined himself up, and buried in—rough, silent, merciless.

She moaned his name, kissing his neck. Heeseung kept his eyes on the screen. Because on the monitor behind her?

You were still live. Fucking someone else. His airpods were in. And he was moaning your name under his breath.

The girl was clueless to much overwhelmed by his deep, rough trust. Riding him like she thought she was doing a good job for him to be so feral. 

Heeseung touched her the way he would have to you, controlling. forcing her in position trying to reach her deepest part, as he watched your hips roll on screen. Your nails dig into someone else’s back.

“Grippe my back. leave marks.” he ordered her.

He hiss, mouthing along with your sounds like a prayer.

“Fuck—Louder. Just like that... Just like that—fuck.”

The girl on his lap whimpered, “does it feel good, Hee?”

Heeseung stared at your body—your lips, your tits, your sweat-shined thighs.

“You’re so perfect,” he muttered. “Fuck—you…”

His climax came hard, violent. He choked your name on the exhale and came inside the girl like she didn’t matter—because she didn’t.

When the girl left, he stared at the screen for an hour. Watched you dress. Watched you check your phone. Smiling.

Not once did you reply to his messages.

You were killing him. Starving him. Making him beg. He slammed the laptop shut, chest heaving, hatred and love boiling into the same sick ache.

You were right. He was a coward. But not for much longer.

You found it on your bed. No card. No note. No sender. Just a black box, wrapped in a ribbon you never heard arrive. Inside: lingerie. Lace. Sheer. Decadent. Your exact size. Your exact taste. Lightly soaked in a scent you could recognize in your sleep—his cologne.

Your fingers trembled when you held it up to the light. No message. But then again, he never needed words.

Heeseung didn’t ask. He tried to command.

So, you didn’t text. Didn’t thank him. You just wore it.

That night, when the webcam light blinked to life, you were already sitting pretty in front of your laptop. Sheer fabric draped over your body like a sin begging to be confessed.

You leaned into the camera, eyes soft, voice sweeter.

“Goodnight, Genius. Hope uni’s not eating you alive.”

And then—

You logged off. Just like that.

Left him starving. You knew he’d pretend it didn’t affect him. He tried, bless him.

He texted the next day, like it was nothing. Invited you to his university party. Like this wasn’t war. Like he wasn’t already losing.

Of course, you went. Dressed in red. Not the lingerie—something sharper. Something that made his friends stare a little too long.

Heeseung barely spoke to you that night. Slipped back into his old self—like he hadn’t spent the week watching you like a man possessed. But he was in his element, charming his nerdy circle, and you were happy just watching him thrive.

Then, it changed.

He didn’t introduce you as his stepsister. That alone cracked the air between you. His hand found your back, fingers tracing lazy nothings while he laughed with his friends, eyes on you like you were art.

You liked seeing him smile. Liked knowing you made it easier.

And then—he excused you both. His friends wished you luck with admissions. So polite. So clueless.

He walked you up a narrow hallway, like it was nothing. A quiet corridor, half-lit.

Then he locked you in a hug.

And kissed your neck.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, hands already exploring.

“You too,” you murmured, smiling. “New haircut? You kept it long in the back. Looks good.”

“You said I should, so...”

You smiled harder, went in for a kiss—your first. His lips were maddening. Soft, sure, and hungrier than you expected. He kissed like he’d waited for years. Like he’d decided waiting was over.

"Untie your dress," he whispered against your mouth, voice low.

You raised a brow, smirking. “Thought you liked watching from afar.”

His jaw flexed. “Not tonight.”

You let the ribbon fall, letting the dress slip open. Underneath—his gift. His breath caught.

“You like it?” you teased.

He didn’t answer. He spun you, pressed you into the wall, and his hand was already between your thighs—finding you soaked.

His mouth brushed your ear, voice cracking with restraint.

“Fuck. You’re so wet for me. I’ve waited so long.”

“Say it,” he growled.

“What?”

His thrust was sharp—two fingers deep.

“Say you want me to ruin you. Say you like it.”

You whimpered, arching into his hand. “I like it when you ruin me.”

“Say it right.”

You licked your lips. “I want to be yours, Heeseung. Ruin me.”

His exhale was jagged—like something inside him broke.

Then came silence. Just heat. Breathing. Fingers moving in and out of you as he grinded against your body, shameless and reckless in a hallway anyone could walk into.

And just before you came—he pulled away.

“No,” he said simply. “Let’s go.”

“Home?”

“No. My room.”

His dorm was massive, dark except for the red glow of a snoozed monitor. His roommate was nowhere. Probably never real to begin with. You practically jumped on him. Messy kisses. Wandering hands. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, your back—and then—

Your hand brushed his desk. The monitors flared to life. And there you were—your webcam feed, glowing on the screen.

Recording. Your name as the file.

“You always make me watch,” he whispered, stripping you down to the lingerie. “Now watch yourself.”

He pulled you onto the bed, body still facing the screen.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, spreading your legs for the camera. “I’ve owned you since the first time you stepped into this house.”

On screen—your reflection trembled. Moaned. Melted in real-time.

He eased fingers inside you again while holding you in his lap, pinching a nipple until you gasped, breath tangled.

“I know what you fantasize about when you’re bored,” he whispered.

He started humping you, slow and heavy.

“I know what kind of porn you scroll past—then go back to.”

Thrust.

“I know which songs you loop when you touch yourself. I synced your playlist.”

You choked on a gasp.

“I know you changed your passwords, just to make me mad.”

His hand curled lightly around your throat.

“But I like it. I like when you pretend.”

He never slowed—just kept pushing you higher, mean and relentless.

And when you moaned his name?

He broke.

“I’m going to give you every twisted thing you’ve ever typed,” he growled. “Every fantasy you deleted. Every filthy draft you couldn’t finish. I’m going to make them real.”

Your climax slammed into you, shuddering through your bones—but he didn’t stop.

“I’ll tie you up in the library when no one’s looking,” he said, voice wicked. “Bend you over your best friend’s bed and leave a bruise only I’ll recognize.”

He laughed.

“I’ll make you cry my name with someone else inside you—just to remind you no one will ever ruin you like I do.”

You turned and kissed him, wild and unhinged.

He kissed back like a claim. Like he was branding your soul.

Then he grabbed you and threw you onto the bed. Reached for a condom.

You stopped him.

“It’s safe today, Hee. Do me raw.”

His pupils darkened. Something dangerous sparked.

He freed himself and dragged his cock against your wetness, teasing your entrance. You moaned each time the head kissed you. His smile was smug. Addicted.

“Heeseung. Please.”

He nodded—and slid in all at once.

You gasped, overwhelmed, stretched so good it hurt in the most perfect way.

He rocked into you deep and slow, biting your neck, lips pressed against skin he couldn’t stop worshipping.

Then he pulled you upright—still inside you.

“You like this position, huh?”

You nodded, dizzy, undone. He studied you like he’d been preparing for a test. He always aced those.

Then—his thrusts changed. Not faster. Just deeper. Harder.

“Hee—”

“Like that, yeah?”

You nodded again, mouth open, breathless at every delicious, punishing thrust.

He looked so fucking good like this—hair sticking to his forehead, lips parted, eyes glazed with need. You went for another kiss and he gripped your neck, slid to your hair, pulling until your back arched.

“Like that?”

“Yeah—yeah—fuck—don’t stop—”

He sucked your tits, relentless now, chasing both your highs. You clenched down so hard his groans turned ragged. He bit your nipple, then folded you in half, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

And then—he lost it.

He didn’t slow.

Not even as your body bucked under him, shaking.

He buried himself deeper, fingers biting into your hips, sweat dripping from his jaw as he fucked you like he wanted to unmake you.

The monitors kept rolling. Your name flashing on screen, over your own moans.

You reached for him—some desperate grasp for balance—but he pinned your wrists above your head, fucked you harder. One of your legs slipped off his shoulder, and he yanked it back up with a grunt.

“Keep it there,” he snarled, breath ragged. “Don’t move unless I say.”

You didn’t.

You couldn’t.

You were already too far gone.

You felt yourself stretch around him again, again, again—your walls pulsing and fluttering with every brutal thrust. It was filthy, unrelenting, and it wasn’t enough.

Heeseung's voice was in your ear, low and wrecked.

“This how you like it?” he panted. “Getting used like this—getting ruined on camera for me?”

You sobbed a yes—high and gasping—and he growled. His hips snapped forward again, this time shoving you higher on the bed.

“Fucking take it.”

He leaned in, biting your lip, grinding deeper. The rhythm turned meaner—each thrust slamming into you with brutal precision.

“You like knowing I’ll replay this?” he whispered. “Jerk off to it when you’re not around?”

You moaned helplessly.

“Want you to. I want you obsessed.”

“Oh, I am,” he said. “You made me this.”

His rhythm stuttered—he was close. You could feel him twitch inside, groaning against your mouth.

Then—

He came.

Hard.

Buried deep.

His whole body went taut over yours, shuddering as he emptied himself, hips rolling slower, deeper. You felt the heat inside you, the stickiness, the way his cock throbbed even after the high.

And still—he didn't pull out.

He kissed your collarbone, your throat, lazily now. Worn out. Quiet.

The screen behind him kept glowing.

Your body was wrecked, your heart pounding against his chest.

He pulled you close, like he wasn’t finished. Like he never would be.

The next morning, the sun barely broke past his blackout curtains. You were still half-naked in his sheets when you heard his fingers tapping at his laptop. A fresh hoodie hung off his shoulder, hair a messy halo.

“Hey,” he said, voice rough with sleep.

You groaned into the pillow. “Already working?”

He smirked. “Coding clears my head. Better than coffee.”

You rolled over. He looked too good like this. Soft around the edges. Eyes warm.

“I wish you could come here,” he said. “To my university.”

You blinked, suddenly alert. He smiled, but it didn’t reach all the way. “You did apply, right?”

“…Yeah.”

He nodded like he already knew. “But you didn’t tell me…pfff.”

Your stomach turned, just a little, as you smirked. “I didn’t want you to be happy for something so unsure.”

“I know.”

Silence. He got back typing. 

“You really think I wouldn’t find out?” he said. “You think I’d just… let you leave somewhere else?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What did you do?”

He smiled. Shrugged. “Nothing you’ll ever be able to prove.”

Your heartbeat slowed. Thick. Smiling unsure.

“Heeseung...”

He stood, walking over. Calm. Barefoot. Still smelling like last night and wanting more.

“I didn’t touch your application,” he said softly. “But I might’ve nudged the scholarship committee. You’re exceptional, after all.”

You froze. “Why?”

“Because you belong here, in that prestigious place and nowhere else.”

His fingers grazed your chin. Tender. Possessive.

“...With me.”

You swallowed. He tilted your face up to his, eyes half-lidded.

“You would've turned it down if you knew,” he murmured, getting his lips closer, smooching slowly. “You’re too proud for that kind of help. Too proud to admit you want to be kept.”

Your voice caught in your throat. “That’s not why I applied.”

“I know why you applied, just like me.”

His thumb ghosted over your lower lip.

“That’s why I made sure you’d stay. to be free.”

A flicker of something dangerous passed between you. Or maybe it had always been there. He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“You think you’re playing me right now, huh,” he whispered, “but—what if I like being used, if it means I get to keep you?”

Your breath hitched. And he smiled. Like he’d already won. Or maybe he was wrong. Maybe you’d just let him believe he had.

Author’s Note:

Babies~ here it is!! 💗 The second part of my enha stepbro AU (first one was HUNTED).

I really hope this one pleased you… did it??? 🥺

I worked so hard on this piece to match the exact vibe I had in mind. Like—why was I waking up at 3 AM with wild ideas for scene effects that were borderline impossible to execute?! 😭🌀

This one definitely has a different flavor! While HUNTED leaned into soft, needy sub!Jakey energy (bless him), I wanted TRAPPED to explore the more intoxicating side of obsession—but not so far that we start hating our sweet little Heeseung~ Just a touch of crazy, y’know?

I really hope the mood translated well, because after rereading it 500 times, I fully lost that "first read magic" feeling I’m not super proud of this draft yet—kinda wish I had more time to proofread and polish it up. I’ll probably update it later (perfectionist problems 😭).

Next up is Part 3, which is supposed to be Sunghoon’s! Let me know if you want anything special in it—I’m all ears... and pervy brain. Just know it’s gonna involve dacryphilia, so bring tissues… for various reasons

XOXO

Reblogs and thirsty little thoughts are always appreciated don’t be shy~© Lassiie

@heejunluvr @choeryyxyz @hoonprksung @schniti-is-in-the-house @ii2sanrio @woniedoyouloveme @saeris-world @gonorrheaisme @soobiverse

[byhuenii]

From the Start

Pairing Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Synopsis They were best friends. She loved him quietly — from the start. But timing was never on her side. Now, between unspoken words, missed chances, and a love that lingers too long, she learns what it means to let go without ever truly doing so. Inspired by “From the Start” by Laufey — a slow, aching love story about almosts, always, and everything in between.

Word Count 4.8K

Themes + Warnings Unrequited love / yearning, Hurt no comfort, angst and longing, missed timings, Emotional Distress / hints of depression (not romanticized) , Quiet suffrage, Self-isolation, Bittersweet loyalty, tender, melancholic, bucky barnes.

— From the Start “If only you knew… I’ve loved you quietly, endlessly, from the start.”

It started with coffee.

You always made his the way he liked it — strong, a little sugar, no cream. Some mornings, he’d wake up from dreams he didn’t remember, soaked in sweat and shaking, and you’d be there in the kitchen already, waiting. You never said anything. You didn’t have to.

That’s how your love began — in the quiet moments. Brushing his hand with yours when you passed him a mug. Laying a blanket over him when he fell asleep on the couch. Listening. Always listening.

The light in the compound's kitchen was low — early morning blue, the kind that makes everything feel a little quieter. Bucky sat at the table, one hand wrapped around a chipped mug, his eyes soft with sleep, his hair half-tied back and falling into his face.

You knew that look. Dream-sick. Still caught in the web of the night. He didn’t talk much after the nightmares, not until the second cup of coffee kicked in.

So you sat down beside him, shoulder brushing his, and passed him a warm piece of toast, buttered just the way he liked it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “You always know.”

You gave a soft smile. Of course I do. You knew his tells. The way his jaw ticked when he was anxious. The pause before he said "I'm fine" and meant the opposite. You knew him better than anyone.

And somewhere along the way — between patching him up after missions and watching movies on the couch with his head on your shoulder — you’d started falling. Quietly. Without permission. Like slipping under water.

He’d rest his head on your shoulder during late movie nights, eyes half-lidded, breath steady against your collarbone. And you — stupid, hopeless you — would close your eyes and pretend, just for a second, that it meant something more.

You told yourself it was fine. You were fine. That being near him, even if he didn’t love you back, was enough.

But it was never really enough.

But Bucky never saw it. Or maybe he did — and just didn’t want it.

It happens on a slow evening, sunlight honey-thick through the compound windows, painting his face gold.

He sits on the kitchen counter like he always does, elbows on knees, talking to you with that crooked half-smile. But you’re barely breathing.

He’s telling you about someone. Someone new.

“Hey,” he said, almost sheepish, running a hand through his hair.

You looked up from your book. “You’re in a good mood.”

“So… I met someone.”

You looked up too fast, too hopeful, thinking for half a second — maybe —

But he didn’t look at you. His eyes were on the wall. Someone new.

“Oh,” you said, trying not to sound like you’d been gut-punched. “That’s… that’s great, Buck.”

He launched into it then — how she made him laugh, how easy it felt. You listened, nodding, smiling where you should. But all you heard was a roaring in your ears.

“She’s so perfect, you’d love her,” he says, laughing softly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this comfortable around anyone. She’s funny — smart. We stayed up talking until 3 a.m.”

You nod. Smile where you’re supposed to. Make a sound that’s supposed to pass for happy.

But inside? You’re cracking.

“She’s… kind. Makes me laugh.” He smiled again, almost bashful. “Told me I should take her to that bookstore downtown. You know, the one you like.” The one YOU liked.

You tried to smile.Tried to nod. But your heart felt like it had caved in on itself.

“Oh. That’s nice.”

That’s mine. That’s our spot. That’s… me.

He didn’t notice the way your hands trembled. Didn’t notice how you stopped breathing for a second. Or maybe he did — and just didn’t want to see it.

That night, you couldn’t sleep.

You lay in your room, staring at the ceiling. The quiet was unbearable. You could still hear him laughing about her. Could still see the way his eyes lit up. And all you could think was: It should have been me.

“Listening to you harp on ‘bout some new soulmate — ‘She’s so perfect,’ blah blah blah…”

That lyric echoes like a broken record as you lie awake in your bed that night, staring at the ceiling like it holds answers. Your heart aches like it’s been wrung out.

You try to drown it out. But his voice — the way he said her name — is louder than the silence.

You remember how his eyes lit up. How easily he smiled. How he used to smile at you like that.

“She’s so perfect.”

You swallow hard. And the jealousy? It’s poison in your veins.

Not because she’s done anything wrong. But because you love him. And he doesn’t know. And worse — you don’t think he wants to know.

You wanted to scream. Instead, you whispered into the dark:

“I’ve loved you from the start, Bucky. God, I wish you knew.”

—

The next few days are unbearable.

You stopped showing up to the gym in the mornings.

Stopped sitting next to him at movie nights.

You took every mission they offered, even the miserable ones — hours in the cold, sleeping on floors, bruises blooming across your ribs.

You dodge him in the hallway. Skip breakfast. Stay in your room or train until your muscles scream — anything to avoid the sight of him grinning at his phone or humming under his breath like a man in love.

Anything to keep you moving. Numb.

You barely sleep. You barely are.

And still, the song plays in your head — like your own personal curse.

“Don’t you notice how I get quiet when there’s no one else around…”

You want to scream.

The pain hit hardest in the quiet hours. When the compound was still, and you sat on your bed staring at nothing, trying not to cry.

You want to ask him how can you not see it? How can you talk about her like that in front of me — like we weren’t something, like I haven’t held your hand through every breakdown, every sleepless night?

But you don’t.

You say nothing. Because saying something would ruin everything.

And so you rot in silence.

You’d see her name pop up on his phone. Hear him laugh through the walls.

And god — the jealousy. The burn of it. Ugly and sharp.

You hated yourself for it. Hated that you were mad at her — at him — for something you never even told him. Something you buried deep, like a secret you didn’t deserve to say aloud.

But you weren’t sleeping. Your eyes were always red-rimmed. And one night, Wanda passed you in the hallway and gently touched your arm.

“You look so tired,” she said softly.

You just nodded, eyes glassy, throat too raw to speak.

You stare at your reflection one morning and don’t recognize the person looking back: Baggy eyes. Pale skin. Glassy, defeated stare. You’ve been crying — you always cry now. Quietly. At night. Into your pillow.

He texts you. Again. Bucky: You okay? Haven’t seen you around lately.

You put your phone face down. You can’t lie to him again. But you can’t tell the truth either.

“God, I wish I could confess I loved you from the start…”

—

You find yourself sitting in the common room alone.

It’s the same couch he used to nap on. The same one where he would rest his head on your lap and mutter that your presence made the nightmares go away. You’d run your fingers through his hair and pretend you weren’t falling in love.

Stupid. Stupid you.

Because he was never falling with you. He was falling for someone else.

You close your eyes and whisper the lyrics into your hand like a prayer:

“Confessed I loved you, From the start.”

You used to sit beside Bucky during movie nights.

His arm would rest behind you on the couch — never quite around you, but close enough to pretend. You knew his laugh by heart, the way it started in his chest and pulled his shoulders forward. You memorized the sound. You loved it.

But now? You sit near Wanda. Head on her shoulder. A different couch, a different row. The distance is a wall. You smile — just enough to seem okay. But it’s tired. Fragile.

Your new spot is farther from him. He notices. He doesn’t say anything.

Neither do you.

Because what do you say to the man you’ve loved in silence for years?

“Please sit closer to me again, even if you don’t love me?” “Please don’t tell me how beautiful she is — I already know. I’ve imagined being her every night since you met.”

You just keep quiet. You always do.

“Don’t you notice how I get quiet when there’s no one else around?”

It wasn’t just what he said. It was how he said it.

You’d just finished a mission, still half-sweaty and bloodstained. You were pulling your boots off when he walked into the locker room, smiling in that way you hadn’t seen in years — like sunlight came with him.

“She texted again,” he said. “Told me she was nervous to meet the team. I told her she’d love you guys.”

You froze, mid-lace.

He kept going.

“God, she’s sweet. She sent me this picture of her cat in a Captain America hoodie—like, full-on cosplay. It was adorable.”

You smiled like it didn’t hurt.

But that night in your room, her name was on loop in your head. Not her fault. Not really. But you hated how it sounded coming out of his mouth.

—

You were sitting in the rec room, legs curled beneath you on the corner of the couch. Bucky walked in, looking happier than you’d seen in weeks. Hair tousled, a small coffee in hand, that boyish smirk tugging at his mouth.

“I had the best night,” he said. “We went to that vintage bookstore off 4th. She made fun of me for dog-earing pages. Then we spent hours in the philosophy aisle. Like actual hours.”

He paused, a little breathless with how sweet the memory was.

“She’s something else.”

You laughed, soft and short. Like something small had snapped inside you.

“That when I talk to you, oh, Cupid walks right through. . .”

You nodded. Pretended to be reading your tablet. Pretended not to notice the way his voice got gentler when he said her name.

“Sounds like she’s perfect,” you said, voice even.

“She really is.”

“‘And shoots an arrow right through my  heart…”

You smiled as if it didn’t pierce you. As if you hadn’t once spent hours in that exact bookstore with him, joking about Freud and arguing over which Austen character he’d be.

He didn’t remember. Or maybe he did. Just not like you did.

You went to your room that night and sat on the edge of your bed, arms wrapped tight around yourself, that lyric playing on loop in your head. You felt like you were watching the person you loved fall for someone else — from the front row, clapping with the rest of the crowd.

And that’s when you knew:

You were losing him. And he had no idea.

—

It started slow.

You said yes to fewer things. Movie nights. Game nights. The random 2 a.m. rooftop stargazing that used to be a staple — all of it, you started skipping.

No dramatic exit. No excuse.

Just silence.

And at first, the team assumed you were busy. Missions, maybe. Personal stuff.

But then you started taking every solo op.

You started volunteering for recon, double shifts, cold assignments in places where you could disappear without anyone asking why.

And the thing is — you were still good. Sharp. On time. Effective.

But you weren’t… you.

Clint notices first.

Not because you said anything — you don’t. But because you’re quieter than usual. You laugh, but it doesn’t stick. You go through the motions like you’re clocking in for a shift you didn’t want.

One night after dinner, he catches you washing your dish — alone — long after everyone’s gone.

“You alright, kid?” he asks.

You smile. “Fine.”

And that’s how he knows you’re not.

You’re using that voice. The one where you stretch your words to keep them from shaking. He doesn’t press. Not that night. But he makes sure there’s always a seat next to him at meals.

Just in case you ever want to stop pretending.

—

You stop showing up for things.

You miss three breakfasts. A debrief. Poker night. No one calls you out, not directly.

But Sam texts you a meme. “Missing you at game night.” Wanda brings you a coffee one morning and just sits beside you, not saying a word.

You tell them you’re tired. Overworked. But the truth is you’re grieving.

And grief doesn’t always come from death. Sometimes it comes from almosts. From being so close to being loved and then watching someone else get chosen instead.

You start waking up with tear tracks on your cheeks. You can’t even remember crying in your sleep.

“What’s a girl to do? Lying in my bed, staring into the blue. . .”

Your eyes stay glassy. Red-rimmed. But you smile when spoken to. Laugh when it’s expected. You wear heartbreak like foundation.

And Bucky? He texts sometimes. Bucky: You okay? Bucky: You’ve been distant. Did I do something?

You don’t answer.

You don’t have the words for how much he did.

“Unrequited, Terrifying.”

—

Some nights, when the silence was too loud and your heart was too heavy, you’d climb into Wanda’s bed and lie on your side — back to her, eyes open in the dark.

“She chose me,” you whispered once. “To meet. To fall for. To laugh with.”

Wanda didn’t respond right away. Just wrapped her arms around you from behind and let you breathe.

“She’s perfect,” you added, voice cracking. “And I’m—”

“You’re everything,” Wanda whispered into your shoulder. “He just couldn’t see it.”

You didn’t cry.

But your body shook.

Sam sees it in your fists.

The way you hit the punching bag like it owes you money. You don’t stop. Don’t pause. Don’t breathe right. You’re trying to beat something out of yourself — and failing.

“Take a break,” he says gently, tossing you a water bottle.

You nod, breath ragged. “One more set.”

But when he walks away, he doesn’t really leave. He leans on the doorframe and watches — helpless. You’re disappearing into yourself. One punch at a time.

Later, he tells Bucky: “She’s burning out, man. I don’t know why, but I know it’s about you.”

Bucky looks confused. And Sam wants to shake him.

—

You skipped the team lunch. again. Didn’t go to poker night. Wanda told you Sam noticed — “You okay?” he texted. You said “Just tired.” But Wanda knew better.

You weren’t just tired. You were unraveling.

The world moved without you. Missions, briefings, late-night drinks.

The next time you did show up — Movie night. You almost didn’t come. You never miss it, but lately, being in the same room as him is like pressing down on a bruise just to make sure it still hurts.

The lights are dim. The team is settling in. Someone saved your usual seat beside Bucky.

You walk past it.

Settle instead next to Wanda. She gives you a quiet look as you place your head gently on her shoulder.

You don’t say a word.

Across the room, you can feel his eyes on you. Like he doesn’t understand what changed.

And how do you tell him? How do you say:

“You must be blind if you can’t see…” “…you’ll never know how much you mean.”

You catch his gaze once — just once. And it’s enough to undo you.

He looks concerned. Confused. Hurt, maybe. But not the kind of hurt you feel.

Your smile falters. Wanda shifts slightly and squeezes your hand.

And you think: This is what it means to love quietly. To sit two feet away from the person who makes your heart ache and know you’ll never be enough.

Bruce doesn’t pry.

But he notices how your cortisol levels spike whenever Bucky walks into a room. He sees your biometric data from shared missions — the subtle signs of insomnia, elevated stress.

He runs diagnostics under the guise of “team wellness.” You thank him with a smile, but don’t meet his eyes.

You’ve always been emotionally intelligent. But lately, you seem distant from even yourself.

He writes it in your file: Subject exhibits signs of chronic emotional suppression.

Then deletes it.

Because this isn’t clinical. This is heartbreak. And science can’t fix that.

—

Nat watches you lie like a professional.

“Everything okay?”

You: “Yeah, totally.”

She doesn’t even blink.

She starts leaving coffee on your desk. Silent support. She doesn’t ask questions, because she knows if she did, you’d crumble.

But one night, she finds you sitting on the floor of the gym, staring at nothing.

“You’re grieving someone who’s still alive,” she says.

And you don’t say a word.

You just rest your head against her leg. And for a while, she lets you be small.

Later, she found Wanda and told her quietly, “She’s grieving something she won’t say out loud.”

Steve watched the space next to Bucky stay empty for the fifth team gathering in a row.

Bucky kept glancing at the door. Kept half-turning every time footsteps echoed.

But you never came.

And if you did — you sat near Wanda. Always Wanda. Curled into her shoulder with a tired smile. Laughing softly, but never loudly. Never like before.

“Have I done something to her?” Bucky asked Steve one night.

Steve knows why.

He sees the empty chair. The way you only show up late and leave early. The way your laughter used to echo through the compound and now barely registers.

“You ask her if she’s okay?” Steve says one night.

Bucky hesitates. “She says she’s just tired.”

Steve doesn’t say it, but he thinks it:

Tired of pretending you didn’t break her.

Steve hesitated. Then said: “Maybe not directly. But something’s changed. And you haven’t asked the right questions.”

Thor doesn’t understand at first. Your sorrow is quiet — too human. But one afternoon, he finds you alone on the balcony during a team BBQ, staring at the sky like it might have answers.

He approaches gently.

“Do you mourn, lady Y/N?”

You smile, brittle. “It’s complicated.”

He nods. “The fiercest battles are fought in the heart.”

He hands you a mug of something warm and honeyed.

“You are seen,” he says. “Even when you wish to vanish.”

You almost cry. But instead, you sip. And for a moment, it’s enough.

—

You hadn’t planned to go. You hated heels, hated faking a smile, hated pretending not to watch Bucky from the other side of the room.

But Wanda convinced you. “You’ll regret it if you don’t,” she said gently.

You arrived late. In black. Subtle. Safe.

The lights shimmered like champagne, and the air was full of polite laughter and perfume. You made your way through the crowd, heart tucked behind ribs like a secret, until you saw him.

Bucky. And her.

He looked different. Softened. Not as tired. Like he was finally breathing.

She was lovely. Naturally. Graceful. The kind of beautiful that doesn’t know it’s beautiful.

She smiled at you. Warm. “You must be Y/N — Bucky told me so much about you.”

Your stomach twisted. “All lies, I hope.”

She laughed. Genuinely. God, you couldn’t even hate her.

She laughs. She’s sweet. Kind. Confident without being cruel.

And it kills you with envy.

Just envy.

Because she’s not a villain.

She’s just her. And you’re not.

You watched the way she touched his arm, the way he leaned toward her instinctively. The way he looked at her like she was it.

And still, you smiled. Because you’re a girls’ girl. Because if your best friend is happy, you’re happy.

That’s the lie you tell yourself as your throat tightens and your drink starts to taste like metal.

“I miss the way you looked at me when we were seventeen…”

Wanda stays by your side the whole night. She doesn’t ask questions. She just knows.

You drink slowly. Smile carefully. And bleed quietly.

They saw everything.

Tony, watching the way your smile dropped when Bucky walked into a room with her.

Bruce, noticing how your hands trembled slightly when handling sensitive tech — how you blamed “caffeine,” but he knew better.

Steve, seeing the way your laugh faltered the second Bucky turned to someone else.

Clint, finding a forgotten hoodie of Bucky’s folded in your room, and quietly leaving it where you wouldn’t find it again.

They weren’t blind.

They just didn’t know how to help.

Because how do you comfort someone whose heartbreak is invisible to the person causing it?

—

You find yourself outside later — rooftop, heels in hand, cold air slicing through the open back of your dress.

You kick off your heels and wrap your arms around yourself.

You don’t hear him at first.

“You always disappear when things get loud,” Bucky says behind you.

You turn slowly. He’s watching you like you’re a puzzle he can’t solve.

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. Just leans beside you against the railing, both of you staring into the dark.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says, voice low.

You don’t thank him. You just nod. The silence settles like dust.

You hum softly. “So does she.”

He glances at you. “She likes you, you know.”

“She should,” you say, smiling without humor. “I like her too.”

“I’ve missed you,” he adds.

“Have you?” you ask, not cruel — just tired.

He looks at you then. Really looks.

He studies you. “You okay?”

“I didn’t know things got so far between us.”

You want to scream. No. I am not okay. I have loved you every day for years, and now I have to stand still while you build forever with someone else.

“You were busy,” you say. “With her.”

He exhales, steps closer. “She’s great. But she’s not—”

“Don’t,” you whisper, looking away.

“I mean it.”

“Please, Bucky,” your voice cracks. “Don’t give me pieces now.”

The wind bites your skin. The city lights blur.

“I loved you,” you say, “from the start.”

His face crumples — just slightly.

And maybe it’s real. Maybe he means it when he whispers:

“So did I.”

“Confess I loved you from the start…”

But he doesn’t reach for you. He doesn’t kiss you. He just stays.

Too close. Too far.

—

He watched you the whole night.

Not in a creepy way — not even deliberately. But his eyes find you like they always used to. Like muscle memory.

Except now, you're distant. You're with Wanda. You’re across the room in your navy dress, holding champagne and laughing softly.

Not loud like you used to. Not free like before.

You look… tired. Lovely, but dimmed.

And when your eyes catch his, you smile.

Not the one he knows. Not the one that used to light up your whole face. This one is polite. Like he’s a stranger at a party and not someone who once lived in every beat of your heart.

He feels something then. Not jealousy. Not guilt.

Just an emptiness. A strange, cold hollowness like someone removed a piece of the puzzle and left the gap permanently open.

They watch you move like a ghost of yourself.

Polite. Soft-spoken. Present but not fully there.

Clint squeezes your shoulder once as you pass. Sam brings you a drink, says nothing. Wanda watches you like she might cry. Peter’s fidgeting — he wants to hug you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed. Steve avoids your gaze like it’s sacred and he’s not worthy. Nat rests her head briefly against yours before slipping away again. Even Thor watches you with a furrowed brow, eyes sad.

You, the girl who once lit the room on fire just by being in it — Now you barely make a spark.

—

Peter is young, but not blind.

He used to joke with you. Now, you don’t smile the same.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong, but he brings you little things: a cookie from the bakery, a drawing of Spider-Man you might find funny.

One day, he quietly says, “I don’t know what happened, but... I hope whoever hurt you knows what they lost.”

You blink fast.

He hugs you around the waist, mutters, “I miss your happy.”

And you do too.

Tony doesn’t ask.

He monitors.

Security footage. Training logs. Mission reports. He tracks the change — the late nights, the solo ops, the silence.

“Someone break your heart?” he asks one day, pretending it’s a joke.

You blink. Say nothing.

“Figures,” he mutters. Then he sends you a custom playlist called 'Heartbreak but Make it Badass’ and upgrades your suit with extra impact resistance.

“Just in case the next time you want to punch something harder than yourself.”

He never says more.

But the suit fits perfectly.

 Bucky finds you. Alone. again..

He doesn’t know what he wants to say. Maybe he doesn’t want to say anything.

“I didn’t know,” he offers. It's hollow. Empty. Pointless.

You nod. “I know you didn’t.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“—you didn’t do anything wrong.” Your voice is so gentle it cuts him. “You were just… being loved. That’s not a crime.”

There’s a silence.

Then you smile — soft, tired.

“I’m happy for you.”

It’s a lie. A beautiful, brutal lie.

And the worst part is — he believes it.

—

You still show up. You still fight. You still help.

But you don’t laugh like you used to. You sit near Wanda now — head on her shoulder, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix.

You avoid the spaces Bucky lingers in too long. You take more solo ops. You tell Peter, “I’m just busy these days,” when he asks why you’re not around.

But the truth is: You're still in love with someone who chose someone else.

And even if your heart isn’t bleeding anymore, the bruise never really faded.

Sometimes he remembers little things: The way you used to laugh at his dumb jokes. The way your eyes always found his in a crowd. The way your smile would bloom when he walked into a room.

And now?

Now you barely look at him.

And something inside him tightens. Not regret. Not longing. Just a quiet ache for a version of something he’ll never fully understand.

“If only I could tell you that I loved you from the start…”

The lyric replays in his head like a song stuck in the wrong key. He doesn’t know why it fits — only that it does.

—

A week later, he texts you a photo of a coffee mug you once broke in his kitchen, now glued together and full of daisies.

Bucky: Found this in storage. Couldn’t throw it out.

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t respond.

Instead, you sit in silence, heart aching in your hands. Because you could’ve been everything. Could’ve been her. Could’ve been his.

But you weren’t.

You never were.

You look at yourself again.

Navy hoodie this time. Dark circles under your eyes. A smile pulled tight with the thread of holding it together.

You still love him.

But love doesn’t mean staying.

Love, sometimes, means letting go. Quietly. With grace. While every part of you is screaming.

You loved him from the start. But maybe he wasn’t meant to be the end.

You step away from the mirror. You walk into the next day. You breathe. You smile at her. You smile at him.

And then you go find your spot beside Wanda again — safe and sad and real.

You see her again later.

She’s sitting in the compound kitchen, eating blueberries from a mug. She sees you and lights up.

“I was just telling Bucky he needs to stop trying to cook for me. You weren’t kidding — he really can’t boil eggs.”

You laugh. It comes easier now. But it’s still a hollow sound.

You like her. You really do.

And that’s the worst part.

You envy her laugh, the way he looks at her, the quiet rhythm they’ve fallen into.

But you never let it twist into bitterness. You don’t want to be cruel. You’re not that kind of girl.

If Bucky’s happy… you’re happy.

That’s what you tell yourself.

Even if it’s not true.

You walk away from the kitchen, smile fading as soon as you’re out of view. And under your breath, you hum the same quiet melody that’s lived in your chest for months:

“If only I could tell you that I loved you from the start…”

And the worst part? You did.

"And if he’s happy… I’m happy."

(That’s a lie. But it’s one you’ve learned to live with.)

(You've got mail) Sorry, yeah. I was listening to this song while making this and honestly. yeahhhhh. to me it feels so real and vulnerable, its just something i get. i wanted to do a happier ending but the ending to this song is not happy at all, and realistically would you of gotten with someone who was like that to you? i wouldn't personally but that's just why i relate deeply to this. and just the many times i have been lead on. its the quiet suffrage, the i don't want to bother my friends. its human.

Tag List (For Mr. James Buchanan Barnes is open!)

@herejustforbuckybarnes @bbsbrina @barnesandbouquets

[thetarotyapper]

what's something you should consider embracing? (pick-a-card reading)

paid services 18+ paid services tarot community ko-fi

(how to pick a card? observe the given options and choose the one which you feel the most drawn to. scroll down to read your message!! remember, this is a general reading, so take what resonates! (ps.- if you feel drawn to more than one card/image/pile, feel free to read the others too!! if the chosen pile doesn't relate to you, feel free to choose another. the choice is yours<3)

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pile I ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

ᝰ.ᐟ my love, i’m seeing here that you are afraid of opening up and letting people see you. you have a hard time trusting others and this has been affecting your relationships (platonic as well as romantic). you should consider embracing your lover girl/boy side and be unapologetically you!! don’t hesitate to connect with other people and build intimate relationships with them - “intimate” here means deep emotional connections. create strong bonds, as they will provide you with security and fulfilment.

ᝰ.ᐟ you should embrace your belief in oneself and you should embrace your instinct’s. trust yourself and know that the power is in your hands. make wise decisions and do not doubt your capabilities. your decisions will lead to long-term success and it will be your strength.

ᝰ.ᐟ you need to embrace reality and accept things for the way it is. once you’ve realised that some things can’t change and once you are real with yourself, go towards what feels right and do what satisfies your soul - instead of holding onto things that cannot change.

ᝰ.ᐟ babe, you need to let go of things that no longer serve you right and release yourself from this torment. embrace the balance of life, but that will only happen if you let go of your blocks. the past is in the past.

ᝰ.ᐟ embrace transformation and change. this will help you adapt more and will give you a sense of “renewal” - where you can start over and learn from your mistakes. sometimes we need to learn things the hard way in order to accept new blessings.

ᝰ.ᐟ embrace the challenges of life as it will help you build your tolerance and through these challenges, you will learn a lot. you will gain tranquility and peace - within yourself as well as towards others.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pile II ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

ᝰ.ᐟ you should embrace your success and your talents, love. i have a feeling you’re afraid of being seen as someone who is “self-centered”, but you truly are gifted. you’re a natural hard-worker and success seems to flow to you with ease, so why push it away? the more you resent, the more it’ll be difficult for this energy to flow towards you in the future - so it’s better to embrace it now. your creativity is flourishing, so allow yourself to embrace the new ideas and the perspectives.

ᝰ.ᐟ i’m seeing here that there is going to be major changes in your life - let it be in your work, relationships or your personal development. embrace this new direction and go with the flow.

ᝰ.ᐟ you’ve been so hard on yourself love, and i need you to take a break. make time for self-love and just breathe. it’s fine to embrace the love you deserve, there’s nothing wrong in it. once you’re easy on yourself, positive things will naturally flow to you. but do not run away when the good energy knocks at your door because you are deserving of it and you should embrace it - instead of feeling like you are not worthy of it. you are, in fact, worthy of all the positive blessings that are coming your way. so don’t be so harsh on yourself, love.

ᝰ.ᐟ see the bigger picture and embrace your blessings. you will shine and do not doubt yourself. you are your biggest supporter, so be there for yourself.

ᝰ.ᐟ embrace discipline in your life and you will soon notice the positive results. people will notice your daring and graceful ways, and they will look up at you as an inspiration. i’m seeing here that you will be a “guru” to many, and they will trust your intuition and will look at you as their leader.

ᝰ.ᐟ it’s okay to be kind and generous towards yourself. it doesn’t make you selfish, it doesn’t make you prideful. the day you change your perception towards oneself, you’ll learn to embrace yourself for the way you are.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pile III ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

ᝰ.ᐟ you need to embrace communication, love. i’m seeing here that you tend to close off your feelings and your emotions because you’re scared of getting in conflict with others and sometimes you might even become very defensive - but all this can be avoided if you’re honest and open about how you feel. there’s nothing wrong with expressing your emotions, but do it the right way. conflict is inevitable babe, but through honest communication, you can find a way to resolve issues and strengthen your relationship - with yourself as well as with others.

ᝰ.ᐟ you need to embrace self-love and healing. forgive yourself for your past mistakes and rediscover yourself. you need to stop comparing yourself with others and embrace your true self, love. you’re unique and beautiful in your own way, and that is what makes you stand out. i’m seeing here that you have still not healed from your past emotional wounds and this could be because people have always treated you badly and you had a hard time fitting in - but that’s what makes you different babe. you don’t need to fit in, because you’re born to stand out. embrace that bad bi*ch energy of yours and thrive!!! i’m so rooting for you<3

ᝰ.ᐟ you need to relax a bit and trust the universe. embrace the blessings of the universe, babe. the progress might feel slow, but the blessings are sure!!

ᝰ.ᐟ i’m seeing here that there is a lot of tension and stress in your life right now, and i want you to breathe through this hard time love. talk less and feel more - do not drain your energy. some things/people are energy suckers and they don’t want to see you flourish. you know your worth and i want you to stick to it. embrace the positive energy and block out all the negative energy, babe.

ᝰ.ᐟ embrace the sweetness of life and discover your true self. be cheerful and know that all your manifestations are coming true. do not tell people about your goals/plans, as they will try to steal your spotlight and steal your manifestations so that they can be you.

ᝰ.ᐟ change the perception you have towards oneself and know that you are courageous and strong. embrace your willpower and know that you have the passion and strength to overcome anything. you have the courage to face the darkness within you.

hiii loves, i hope this reading finds you in good health, and i hope you are doing well. i’ve been so burnt out recently and it’s been hard for me - but i’m trying to stay motivated. this reading is shorter compared to my other readings, but hopefully my next reading will be more in-depth. since my energy is a little low, i’ve used my oracle cards for this pac & heavily relied on my intuition, which is so new to me because i always use oracle and tarot together - but i guess i’m just trying something new😅. i would be so glad if you could like my post and re-blog it, and please let me know which pile you picked - i would love to hear your thoughts and know if this reading resonated with you!! take care of yourself, and i will see you in my next reading. thank you for being here<3

ps - thank you so much to the lovely person who gave me the idea of doing this reading!! i truly appreciate you taking the time out of your day and letting me know which reading you preferred🥰❤️

(note - tarot & oracle cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, feelings and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!)

જ⁀➴ all credit for the pictures/dividers goes to their rightful owners and creators

[hollyhomburg]

Hold your Breath (Count to Seven)(2)

(Pack alpha Hoseok focus, Background ot7 x reader, Omegaverse, Forced Caretaking, Omega scarcity au)

୨୧‧₊˚ Summary: Hoseok will never forgive the people who did this too you. Never. his anger comes out in strange ways. His love too.

୨୧ ‧₊˚ Word Count: 14.4k

୨୧ ‧₊˚ Tags: Omegaverse au, omega scarcity, forced caretaking, Dom/sub undertones, dom! jimin x m/c, spanking, Discipline, idol au, Pack alpha hoseok x omega! m/c, Sickfic, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Background ot7 x reader, chronic health issues, themes of trauma, referenced family issues/childhood abuse, healing, Past Medical mistreatment, past neglect, Eventual smut, non-chronological storyline

୨୧ ‧₊˚ A/N: ah well... people said they wanted to see a bit more of dom jimin so~ hopefully this scratches an itch! well :( remember when i told you about my stressful life events that were on the horizon? well they're here <3 i fly out to california tomorrow for my sisters wedding lol watch us go no contact after this. but i wont even care because at least i have bts back lol

First part ~ ‧₊˚ ~ Masterlist

There are no second chances when it comes to omegas.

Although you tend to view what your parents did to you as a simple betrayal, Hoseok can’t see it as anything other than condemning. Abuse, neglect. Take your pick because each makes him equally as angry. Forgiveness is not something that comes to him easily. Is that a flaw or a virtue?

Occasionally they reach out or try to get in contact with you. They ask how you’re doing. Where you’re going, if you're coming home any time soon. Usually with videos at the airport attached and too much hope in their words. They just want to keep track of their daughter. they say. They just want to make sure you’re alright.

Hoseok calls Bullshit on that in a fucking heartbeat.

You’ve been no contact with them for years now. Handing over the burden of contact to Hoseok was an easy concession to make to your pack alpha. Of course, he would handle everything for you. Of course, this was his responsibility.

You’ve asked him to tell you if anyone gets sick if anyone dies, or if they make an effort towards a real apology. You won’t be bothered with the half-measures until then.

You couldn't have imagined our stress at the time. We just wanted to make sure you had the option. Omega's struggle to be free because of the way the world works. You could handle it. We only wanted you to do your best. You don't need an alpha, you've always been strong enough without one. You never needed all the things that other omegas needed anyway

It's my first time having a child- of course all parents make mistakes.

Please refrain from contacting my pack at this time. Any further action on your part will only result in a restraining order. 

You're exactly the kind of alpha we were afraid of.

They have his number and his number only; you only ask to see their texts every now and then. Hoseok only sometimes decides it's safe to show you. It's up to his discretion if you’re too fragile or if you’re only going to use the texts to make yourself feel guilty.

The only contact info they have is Hoseok's and even then, he rarely responds beyond telling them that you're still not ready, that you might never be. He’s only ever polite on your behalf but still sometimes if he's feeling particularly sensitive about the issue of your health he does tell them to fuck off.

That only ever gets a scolding look from you later when you inevitably ask to see their texts and he lets you see. And Hoseok acts scolded even though he can scent that underneath your misery- you're faintly pleased.

You don't have to ask him to defend you. You'll never have to beg for that.

Although you'd said you were perfectly well adjusted to life as an omega when they'd first met you the truth is that while you'd been able to scent and nest like any other omega, your instincts had long gone dormant and quiet. But they're fully awake now, after living with 5 alphas and 2 betas. They ring loud and clear.

You just struggle to listen to them sometimes.

The rest of the pack is on the same page too. The pack is your family in every sense of the world, you don’t need the people who hurt you anymore. Sometimes- the idea of them being your family gets a little tangled with everything else. Omega's need care, they need to be looked after, you know this.

You're not their child, but you are their omega. And that comes with a special set of responsibilities.

They might have reacted a little bit over the top with the mothering at the beginning. All packs go through an adjustment period when an omega gets introduced. You hadn't been theirs for more than half a year before you'd slammed the door in Namjoon's face and called him out on it after a particularly rough day.

But slamming doors is not something that Hoseok allows- not from the pups or from you.

Hoseok was there to mediate, the rest of the pack lingering in the vicinity too. To hear and watch over you. Nervous at the stressed tone of your voice. Taehyung and Jungkook rough house and hassle jin, either helping with dinner or getting in the way of it. Hoseok knows your instinct is to hide. But doing this here in the living room where everyone can see and participate is important.

You need to learn that you don't have to hide from them, that none of you, not your needs or your intentions- are too much for them.

Your omega is never going to feel safe and docile with all of them unless you stop hiding it.

So You and Namjoon sit on opposite ends of the couch. Jimin there in the armchair ready for your inevitable punishment. Hoseok will let him take the reigns in this and will let Jimin have this. The whole pack has been on edge all day. Has been able to sense that you're close to breaking- it's only Namjoon's luck that he'd been caught in the crossfire.

Having Jimin do the punishing has several Uses. One- Jimin needs it, and two- as a beta he'll be able to get you down more gently than any of the alphas. You'd get scared at the feeling of your instincts take over and it would have the opposite of the intended effect. If Namjoon brought you down into omega space you might go down so quick and drop so suddenly it would be scary. It wouldn't feel like a choice at all and it wouldn't be comforting.

let alone if Hoseok was the one to do it. If he ever dared to use alpha voice on you you might pass out. You need to understand that you need this, just as much as they do.

Hoseok will handle the aftermath- will tuck the alpha and you under either arm and soothe you later. He's watchful and prepared to step in if you need him. sitting in the chair legs splayed wide and inviting. fingers tapping out a rythem on the chair leg as he watches you squirm under the weight of so many eyes.

He's getting a bit better at letting the others handle you. They need this- to watch and make you submit just as much as Hoseok does.

Jimin sits, legs crossed, leaning his chin on his hand, watching and waiting for Namjoon and you to finish arguing. 

"You're not my father Namjoon, I don't want you to act like my fucking dad when you're my partner. I get that sometimes- you have these instincts- but it doesn't make me feel good." You're close to tears, eyes suspiciously glassy. Your head feels fuzzy but panicky like everything is happening faster than you can handle it. Leaving you overwhelmed and off kilter.

You glance at Hoseok, and he stares back impassively. Rubbing a finger across his bottom lip- but he won't intervene unless you actually do cry or you ask him too. You're just starting to learn to trust your instincts. To understand why your breath goes even around him and why things are easier to sort through when he's touching you- either with a hand on the small of your back or holding yours so delicately- like you're fragile.

The others understand but you don't. you've never had a pack alpha before. He's the only pack alpha you've ever known.

There is apart of him more wolf than man, that loves that fact. That he's your first and your only pack alpha, If Hoseok can help it.

And Hoseok is helping, that's what this is. Mediating. Making sure you adjust to the pack and the pack adjusts to you. Hoseok is here just as Jimin is as pack beta- to make things go smoothly.

It's strange. Growing up you'd been treated so often like you were strong. industructible no matter what. Any cold or sickness was met with a snear that you were tougher than that. Strong despite your shakiness, strong despite the fact that when pushed you broke. Strong like your weakness was ever something you could conquer. No matter how many times you told people you couldn't- that you couldn't stay awake to study, that you couldn't run any faster- that you couldn't try any harder without it hurting- they never listened.

But now everything's changed- the pack are almost too gentle with you. Too aware of just how fragile you can be sometimes. You like to act independent. You even might need to sometimes (Hoseok is not so convinced that you actually need independance or if you just feel like you need it). And while they'd never stop you they are always hovering a little. It's easier sometimes- but right now-

Right now it feels stifling. Right now it feels like you can't breath. Like something very bad is going to happen if you take too much- like they'll find out it's not worth it. That you're not enough. You lean away from Namjoon when he speaks, and you can see the hurt in his eyes as you do it. Can see that Jimin's eyes darken in disapproval, posture stiff.

But your skin feels like it's going to crawl off your body and leave you fleshy and exposed. Something fights to claw out of your chest. And no breath comes easy.

Until you look at Hoseok.

You're not sure where your anger comes from or if it even is anger at all. Afraid, you know you're a bit afraid of Namjoon, but afraid of what you can't say. You know that his controlling behavior isn't exactly why but you're too worked up to care. Maybe you've never been both afraid and safe before. Maybe you don't trust them to keep you safe.

A deep voice whispers in Hoseok's ear, hidden and telling. His desires and impulses dark and not to be shared. You don't trust them to handle everything for you.

Yet.

Hoseok waits, Hoseok reclines in the chair and watches. Namjoon's voice is deep and calm. Rational. You're the only one getting worked up here, but thats okay. All of this is okay.

"Our lives are all very controlled, they have to be to get to the level that we are. But we need to look after each other. I won't be made out to be some sort of monster when all I'm trying to do is make sure you take care of yourself. You can't expect me not to treat you the same way I treat the others."

"Now that's some bullshit. You treat me like-" your voice warbles, and Hoseok gives it another 10 seconds before he intervenes. "I might be your omega but I'm not some sort of pet. You never tell the others what they can and can't eat or do so why am I-"

Hoseok holds up his hand, stopping your train of thought. For what it's worth you instantly fall silent. Your shaking stops just a little at the show of dominance, at obeying. Your body wants it even if your mind struggles to comprehend it. It's like you're trying to listen to your omega and your instincts but you just can't hear them.

You need a push. And Hoseok is very gentle. Gentle enough to do the pushing.

Hoseok heart breaks a little at your overall posture, shoulders curled. In a big sweater of Yoongi's because you're feeling cold- even though it's spring and the house is kept at a comfy 70 deg for your comfort. Like you want your alpha's scent as close as possible even though they're right there. Like you don't trust them to stay.

That is their fault too. Comeback season can be stressful for you. Long hours and longer absences. This Hoseok knows. They'd finished a few days ago and they're home all the time now. It's a little bit of a whiplash for you and your omega. Going from feeling neglected to feeling stifled.

"Namjoon does do all of those things to us, it's his job as leader." You'd looked to Yoongi in the doorway suddenly.

He shrugs. "Things get stressful. Pack's like- exist to make sure we're all taken care of. I'd listen to any of them if they told me that I needed to rest. And it wouldn't matter who said it- if it was you or Hobi- I'd still listen." Yoongi being stern isn't something you're completely used to not yet. "And I'd do it without being a brat." Your breath hitches and you look away. 

Jimin scoffs, "just barely."

''Okay fine, I do it without being a brat to Hobi. You're lower in the hierarchy than I am and Joonies my equal."

"That's better." Jimin is satisfied. Voice a pur. But you find no comfort in Jimin's tone, or to him Nodding along to yoongi's words like it makes perfect sense. "You decide your boundaries, but we'll always step in if we feel you're being unsafe. You can't ask us not to do that."

Hobi had nodded, supplied. "You can always push back." He'd thought on it a minute more. "As long as you do it without being mean or hurtful."

With that Jimin had held his hand and beckoned for you, and your expression had turned nervous. "I didn't mean-"

"No buts pup. You know slamming doors is not something we do here. You almost hit Joonie in the face."

You look to Hoseok, double checking with him. "It doesn't matter that it was an accident." When you still don't move, Hoseok humms. "Do you need me to do your punishment today pup? Or will you let jiminie do it>"

"I want to do it." he says, just in case you need the reassurance. While the whole pack take their own turns disciplining you- certain members gravitate to it more organically. Namjoon- like Hoseok- struggles not to be overly gentle with you but Jimin has no such qualms.

You stay silent for a moment and Hoseok is about a second from making the choice for you before you get up slowly, tentatively moving in Jimin's direction. Not before looking back at Hobi for his approval.

Hoseok nearly wants to purr. His alpha already pacing- telling him look and see- you're already learning how to be good. How to obey not just him but the packmates too. He knows listening to your omega will only get easier over time so long as they keep showing you like this.

"But I said I was sorry and he forgave me for that." Namjoon had rubbed his nose. But none of them had moved, even though you're transitioning from discussion to punishment.

They all might like it a bit too much, watching Jimin handle you. It's ever so sweet the way you go down for the beta. Betas might have a lack of instincts- but they also make others come out.

"No buts."

You'd tentatively stood between Jimin's legs, the beta's hands smoothing up and down your waist, "take a deep breath honey. this isn't supposed to be scary."

"i know" but you still sound unsure. Hoseok had crossed his legs to watch, hiding a small smile behind his clasped hands. He might not be able to handle disciplining you himself quite yet- always too worried about being rough- but watching his pack get what they need under his watchful eye is something he greatly enjoys.

Especially with the way you squirm and eventually go docile. One day soon you won't fight your nature. The pack just has to get you there and get you used to this.

Your lower lip quivers, "I didn't mean to."

"We know. You're so good, you always take your settling like a good pup too."

Jimin's lips had looked awfully plush pressed to your knuckles. Kissing there once, then your wrist. Sliding the sleeve of your sweater up and over your elbow. Tipping his feet inward around your heels so that they trap you there between them. Squeezing your hips gently.

He kisses your elbow. "Now, would you rather I do it or Joonie?"

You stiffen, imperceptibly but it's there. "Would there be a difference?" Namjoon's eyes soften, and he shuffles just a little bit closer.

All of this bratting out and this disobedience is not in your nature. This is something that Hoseok knows deep down. It's all because alone you are unsafe. An omega alone in the world is a dangerous thing and you need the reminder of them close to feel their presence and their dominance. You weren't getting that, didn't know how to ask for it, and that's why you felt the need to act out.

You can be alone- you can be a perfectly functioning member of society without the pack but deep down, independence is not what you want or what you need.

Jimin hums thoughtfully considering your request, his other hand plays absentmindedly with the hem of your shorts. Slipping under. Rings flashing. Massaging you there a little, already warming you up. Your breath hitches.

"I think if Joonie does it, you'll only get 20. But if you ask for me- then it's 30."

Hoseok knows what he's doing, letting you choose, giving you a small amount of choice just to make you go down easier. You'd hovered, unsure. Stuttering. Seconds away from crumbling.

"Is it going to be here or- or-" You can't finish the sentence, and Jimin grins a little meanly. He likes making you say it. Likes it even more when you shy away.

"Is it going to be over your ass or pussy you mean? Your spanking?"

You squirm and Hoseok tips his legs wider, feeling himself grow hard. The whole house is silent, the sound of Jungkook and Taehyung roughhousing with Jin in the other room quieting to listen.

Jimin hums thoughtfully tugging down your pants and turning you around, practically making you twirl for them, you shuffle uneasily. Blushing too hard to meet Hoseok and Namjoon's eyes as they sit and watch. Keeping your legs tight together. Yoongi just kicks his hip against the doorframe and settles in.

Jimin appraises each, pinching you hard enough to make you jump. He wraps an arm around your waist, hand trailing down your stomach and then lower. Humming contemplatively.

"I think Joonie should be the one to choose. Hyung?"

~-~

It hadn't taken the pack long to realize that while you say you don't need parenting- you sort of do. The lines blur sometimes between being a Packmate and being a caretaker. It's hard to give you exactly what you need. Their instincts tell them to do things that aren't always straightforward.

So when your full-blooded parents reach out and ask for you, he makes the effort to tell them to fuck off it in a polite way. Mentioning lawyers and international omegan rights associations. And reminds them that they’re lucky they’re not in prison for what they did to you.

Your healing is something that Hoseok takes very very seriously.

All that pain and damage is a world away, not in this country and as far from you as Hoseok can make it. After finding out you were an omega you'd gone as far as you could from where you grew up, from all the people that knew you as a beta. Escaping into anonymity. Disappearing because you didn't know who to trust and how to be you anymore.  

Hoseok doesn’t like to think of you alone and afraid and adjusting on your own. But that’s what you’d been before them- alone. Coping and just barely. (This is not entirely true, you’d had a few years of light-hearted struggle sure. But the world supports omega’s at the very least, your struggle had been mostly internal- not that that makes it any better).

They're still dealing with the effects of their actions years later, not only psychologically. (You still struggle sometimes, too used and too comfortable with your independence, the pack does its best to let you keep your small freedoms within the confines of what they’re willing to allow. All to keep you safe, happy, and healthy.)  

But physically your health has never been steady.

They've taken you to omega specialist to omega specialist. Immunologist to immunologist. Each of them had recommended the same thing: time to adjust and closeness to your alphas. Regular scenting and exposure to dominance to get your body functioning as it should.

No less than 6 hours of recommended nesting time per day. More than the usual recommended 4 or the bare minimum 2 for omegas. Less than two hours of nesting daily would get the OHS (Omegan Health Services) called on any pack. Famous or not.

Omega's immune systems biologically need closeness with others. Mostly to soothe and help regulate body temperature and metabolism. Other omega nestmates would be ideal, but to be fair, having your betas on either side of you, stuck between Jiminie and Jin like a happy little sandwich does the trick most days.

But it also reminds you of other less happy times. Sometimes it's the alpha's you reach for because Jimin and Jin, as lovely as they are...

They bring up bad memories.

Your beta parents had suppressed your omega nature in two ways; By keeping you away from alpha’s and by feeding you large doses of suppressants every day or several times a day- to arrest your omegan nature.

Hoseok’s not sure what they planned on doing, if they were going to keep you hidden forever or just until you were old enough to understand and make the choice to be a beta on your own.

There were some parts of being an omega that were harder to suppress; even given their efforts. You have distant memories of it. Fond memories even if you wish they weren’t. Cuddling between the two of them in their bed finally finally feeling safe. The way they’d hold your hand carefully crossing the street. Drying your eyes after a skinned knee.

You don’t know if these things matter to you because you’re an omega or just because you miss the people who once claimed to love you.  

You’ve told him the story a handful of times. The pups only once. Hobi, Yoongi, and Namjoon know more because they'd had questions. Hoseok thinks about it more often than he'd ever admit to you. Namjoon too has the tendency to ruminate.

You'd grown suspicious over the years that the bitter drinks you were fed every morning were not keeping you healthy but instead making you sick beyond repair. You were never able to run as fast as the other beta’s during recess, always the slowest, always the shortest, always the smallest. Written up for sleeping in class.

Your body started to reject the smoothies the older you got, you'd vomit them up on accident. The bitter tang strange. Medicinal. The more determined your natural biology was to push through the worse you'd felt. You remember being in class, reprimanded for falling asleep again- trying to pick up your pencil only to have it fall to the floor. Your hand shaking too hard to hold it.

A tremor that you still occasionally get to this day. A tremor that omega’s only get if they undergo scent deprivation and instinct neglect. A syndrome carefully outlined for all alphas and beta’s once they go through omegan education in primary school.

You’d been given that too. You're smart. You’d started to connect the dots.

Certain things never added up about your childhood. You were sent to an all-beta school and your parents lived in a remote area. Your nearest neighbors miles and miles away. Why did they move from the city shortly after you’d been born? Why were they recluses now when before they'd hopped from city to city? They don't even let you go shopping with your friends or to the store with them on your own.

They teach you languages you'll never use, educate you more and more- and push you harder and harder. They never let you rest or sleep past a certain time in the morning.

They never let you nest.

You always went to a 'family friend' for blood tests. You always had doctors come to your house and not the other way around. There have always been glances given over your head, knowing looks that you are kept ignorant of. Tense conversations overheard, disdainful looks when you ask for larger clothing or when you ask for affection or when you ask for anything.

When you need anything.

It got clearer the closer it got to falling apart. Your mother freaked out after you went to a friend’s house after school. A friend who had an alpha for a father. The next morning, your father had grown panicked when you’d forgotten your morning breakfast smoothie, had driven all the way to school to give it to you. He hadn’t left until he’d watched you drink it all.

“You need to listen to me. I know you don't understand right now but this is very very dangerous for you if you don't do everything I say. You'll lose everything we've ever given you.”

You’d stopped taking them secretly, just to confirm your suspicions. Under the full assumption that you’d been making it all up in your head and that a week of skipped breakfast would hardly cause a cataclysm.

But it had only taken a few short days before you’d collapsed at school and been rushed to the hospital, not your first heat but a pseudo one.

Alpha’s- there are alpha’s here. You’re not supposed to be around alphas, are you? There are police here too. A lot of people. maybe twenty looking after you. you don't want your parents to see. they'll probably be mad at you for getting sick again.

Federal agents look so funny in their suits and badges. Talking to the doctor in the doorway when you can't give a coherent statement. Why are you making these noises? These purrs and chirps and squeaks. Why do you need fluids? Why is the bed around you big and deep and plush? Why is there a hospital guard at the doorway and why are you in the omegan wing of the hospital?

You don't belong here, you try to tell them. Try to be good and get out of here even though you're almost too weak to get off of the bed. the walls are so steep and you are so so small. they catch you before you fall onto the floor.

But no ones angry at you. not for being too weak to get out of bed.

You're cooed at and gently but firmly placed back in the bed. You don't think it's a bed actually, you think it might be a nest. But you're not sure you've never seen one before.

You're in no shape to fight.

A kind-looking beta man with grey hair grips your hand across the bedspread asking you to recite everything you know about omega’s once you're lucid. Everything you’ve learned in school. nodding until you start to understand.

You snatch your hand back from his touch. Scared of it. "We thought you'd be more comfortable with a beta social worker rather than an alpha or another omega. But I can get someone else if you're dissatisfied."

“No, that can’t be. I’m a beta. I’ve always been a beta. There must be some sort of mistake.” 

"I don't want to press charges. Please. Tell me what I have to say for things to go back to normal."

"No…You're right…I don't want to see them. But I don't have anywhere else to go."

"You do have a place to go, we here at the OHS only want to help omega's thrive. You more than qualify for government assistance."

You’d been removed from the home and placed directly in OHS housing. A safe building meant for omegas that needed healing with separate sterile apartments and on-call medical staff.

It had been a bit of an adjustment- but a lot of the omegas there were young like you and a lot of them came from worse situations.

Omegan trafficking. kidnapped. Hidden like you but without seeing sunlight. those omega's who sit out in the garden and cry and cry and cry because they're free now. Some of them bear the marks of abuse too- Noses and scent glands burned out. Hardly able to speak or look into a beta's eyes without shaking let alone an alphas.

By the end of the first week, you start to realize that you'd been very very lucky. It doesn't make you any less angry. Things could have been worse but- your family could have also just...not done that to you. That's the worst part isn't it? They could have chosen to love you but they just...didn't. They chose to be hateful instead because that was easier than even trying to give you what you want.

No, not want. Need.

Alphas are…strange. You collect facts about them. The one who guards the front door of the building isn't scary even if he does carry a gun. He will sneak sweets if you ask nicely. Enough that brightly colored wrappers litter the bottom of your nest. There are cameras in the hallways but they don't care if you move about freely so long as you do it before curfew.

The alpha that runs the kitchen always says yes to second portions of ice cream if you take more veggies too. If you leave your sweater unbuttoned the pretty alpha with long shaggy hair that watches you walk through the gardens will grip your elbow over the small stream and tell you about the schedule- about things you can ask for.

Like a computer and a stereo system for your apartment, like for outings with armed guards. She tells you that although the world is safe enough for omegas, Those at the OHS just want to be sure nothing happens to these omegas since you've already been through so much.

At least they smell good.

And they almost always do everything you ask when you work up the courage to talk to them. They're bigger than you and the beta's. Stronger. Gentle giants capable of picking you up and heaving you over their shoulder if you try to shout or fight. You don't try that- but some of the other omegas do.

They're…a little wild. Some of them. You know what it feels like to be backed into a corner. How thoughts and feelings rush at you- instincts. Are those instincts?

You hear some of the others whisper about omegas that have gone feral or nearly feral. You only see it once. An omega bites down on an alpha shoulder, drawing blood. You've seen blood before, you're not sure why it makes you want to duck behind another alpha, careful to gather you and the gaggle of other omega's, a small boy, younger than you and mute pressed into your spine for safety.

This omega isn't in trouble. They'd just refused to go to the showers for the 3rd night in a row. And there are certain things like hygiene that your caretakers are very very firm about. But the alpha hardly flinches.

"That was a really good bite! It even stung a little! You're getting so much stronger- I'm so so proud. How about some bubble bath as a reward?"

You do envy their pain tolerance and their tolerance for discomfort a little.

It's a newfound sense of power. You ask, and they fulfill the request. That's an alpha's job, isn't it? Beta's are harder to manipulate. But if you outline exactly why you want your request they're usually a little bit amenable.

Unless that request is for more screen time, or to stay up later, or to take an extended run around the compound instead of taking your afternoon nap, to forgo the sunscreen, or to exercise beyond just lifting stupid 2lb dumbells. There are certain things that they won't allow no matter how much you ask.

It’s not quite the death sentence that your family seems to think it is. They’d always talked down on omegas in front of you. Always said they were lazy and spoiled and that the government did too much for them. But you’re not spoiled and you try not to be lazy. You’re always up and moving.

That's part of the problem.

The alphas and betas at the OHS don't seem to like it when you try and help them stack chairs or help clear the tables, or help with the other omega's moving their things upstairs. You get scolded for lifting boxes, for giving up your blanket during movie time, for not telling someone that the shoes provided where giving you blisters.

It's hard for you to understand that you don't need to be helpful, you don't need to earn affection here. That the bruises on your knees and your blisters actually are cause for concern and they're not faking it when they tell you that you need to be careful.

The endpoint here isn't control. The endpoint is safety. For you to understand just how to fulfill your own needs and keep yourself safe until you have an alpha (or ideally a whole pack of them) to do that for you.

There are placement agencies. High-end alphas in Louis Vuitton shoes that bring gifts and paperwork and the promise of wealthy packs with them once a week. Some of the omegas take them up on that offer.

You usually avoid the atrium when they're in, the only part of the building available to outsiders so long as they pass through the scanners and are supervised. It's supervised visitation only. You meet with your social worker once a week to decide if you're ready to see your parents to talk to them.

You never are.

You're Unsure about what exactly you want your life to look like now that you're free. Now that you're new.

Omegan Health Services is just about the only government agency that’s properly funded- and you were well taken care of as a result. It's not all bad. It feels a bit like summer camp maybe. The Arts and crafts are fun, the nesting lessons are a bit annoying (you can never seem to get it right, never satisfied with your work, always an overachiever). Doctors visits and mental health check-ins. Nutrition classes.

But the scenting lessons.... those you don't mind.

You didn’t like nesting back then, didn’t understand it. An older omega who smells like honey comes and sets one up for you in your little apartment once a week. Cupps your cheek and asks if you'd like to try and make one on your own this time.

There's no there to teach you how to be obedient because contrary to what you’ve been told- that’s not an omega’s only purpose. Omegas have a purpose beyond what you’re learning, although it’s hard to put a pin on what exactly their value is.

But they had confined you to a nest, scruffing the back of your neck, when you’d tried to stay up for a full 12 hours like before. A normal amount of time you said, you could handle it. Why would you need a nest when you've never had one before?

Honestly, part of you finds it a bit ridiculous at first.

“Would you please try? For me? It would make me very very happy if you'd nap for me.”

What's stranger is how you can tell the alpha is happy when you put your head down, you can smell it in the air, a deep sweetness, the kind that makes you get goosebumps and makes your toes feel all fuzzy. It feels good to make them feel good. Feels better when you ask to try and scent them- and get more of that on you.

You'd slept for 3 days straight after that. It was like your body finally understood what it needed, finally understood that it didn't have to go without anymore.

Just after your first heat, your hormones had leveled out. You’d stayed on hormones until the doctors at the OHS had verified that no, your body hadn't sustained life-threatening permanent damage beyond a relatively weak immune system- susceptible even for an omega. Your parents had been charged with omega endangerment and narrowly avoided prison time thanks to your testimonial.

That was as much forgiveness as you were capable of.

But too soon, you'd been 18, on your own and unprotected with placement agencies and every alpha that you'd ever come in contact with breathing down your neck and intent on wooing you. You were given everything you’d ever needed by the omegan protection program. A small apartment. Food and clothing budget. Weekly check-ins by your social worker just to make sure that your living situation is still stable. That you haven't traded your nest (admittedly a little sparse) for a bed, that you haven't lost weight, and that you're still sleeping enough.

You're a good omega. For a while, you keep your sink empty of dishes. Your laundry hamper always half full. Your teeth stay brushed and so does your hair. You don't leave your apartment much. Too nervous, too worried, too afraid.

Too omega, it's all too new.

The OHS might have given you the bare bones, But what you wanted to do with the rest of your time was up to you. Of course, you could go to school as you initially planned, almost every college has an omega's only program, most omega's don't apply for things like neuroscience or pre-med track. You toy with the idea, feeling like something of a test subject yourself to meet with guidance admins and even the head of a college.

"It's not every day that we get potential omegan students. and i understand that you're technically a ward of the OHS but-"

"Technically."

"Yes well- I'd like to personally take you under my wing even if that is the case."

You were too used to being independent, too scared to trust anyone just yet after such a betrayal. Despite winning what many people think of as the genetic lottery your life still feels...

Sour. Empty. Scary.

You'd trade all of it for what you had back. For the lack of betrayal (a small part of you tells you that you might not have minded it at all if you'd never found out. You might not have cared that you were being mistreated at all. You might never have realized it beyond them being the idea of 'harsh parents'

You wish you’d had a family that understood you, that wanted you just as you are- but that’s not always possible. You’d show them- you’d decided that you could be an omega and be independent. Those two things didn’t have to be mutually exclusive. You don’t need a pack yet. You might not ever even want one. You’d cast out a net in a wide range of searches to find a job- a big city, where most omega's live, where you can settle in among the masses, where you won't be that abnormal. Any job will due.

Maybe even in another country.

Becoming a professional scenter is an easy avenue for omegas banking on some modicum of financial independence. They’re always needed and they’re always compensated well- if the job isn't a little emotionally demanding.

It didn’t matter that you’d never scented anyone in your life before you'd been found out, that you could hardly even hear your instincts at all thanks to what had been done to you- you are wanted all the same. Scenters are in such high demand that the fact that you had no experience wasn't even a facet of your interview.

It’s easier for you to follow your natural inclinations now after years of practice and the pack's careful guidance. But Hoseok still burns with the knowledge that it should have been easy for you. It shouldn’t have been hard and he will make everything else in your life easy to apologize.

“Hobi, you’re being silly. You didn’t even know me.”

“But still-” instincts aren’t always straightforward, they don’t always make sense.

You didn't just apply to idol companies either. You'd landed first at a tech start-up and then at a hospital (which hadn't been the right fit- too much stress for you, too many people that were too sick for your weak immune system to be exposed too). You'd worked at several different establishments before landing at BigHit.

By the time you met them, you’d realized what you liked. The more freedom the better.

Omegas are naturally smaller and slighter than betas or alphas. Jimin is the only one truly close to your size, and even then, he’s still almost a foot taller than you and man-handles you with ease. None of them struggle with a princess carry or (Taehyung and Namjoon's favorite) a straight up bear hug.

Because of your upbringing, you’d always looked a little more ashen, a little weaker than the typical omega. It was enough to tug on even the most reasonable alpha's heartstrings and make their instincts go a little haywire. Even ones that had the privilege of growing used to an omega’s company.  

Hoseok had noticed, because Hoseok always notices.

It’s not all that uncommon for a single workplace to hire an omega to work as a scenter. It’s especially common in the idol and model industry. Omega's are either found through placement agencies that charge a pretty penny in finders fee, scouted off the street, or through omegan protective services.

There are certain guidelines. Certain rules. They’d had it drilled into their heads as young impressionable alphas not to overstep.

An employer must provide comprehensive nesting materials and launder them twice weekly. An omega is not allowed to scent more than 15 people per day or work more than 25 hours in a given week. If they say they don’t want to scent a person that’s final. Omegas aren’t to be coerced into allowing anyone into their chosen nest. Disobeying an order from an omega is grounds for immediate termination because if the company loses its designation as a safe haven omegan employment opportunity- then that’s it.

There are no second chances when it comes to omega’s.

And yet despite these rules and regulations set out by the government they are an easily negotiated expense. Hoseok hadn’t been exactly resistant to the idea of bringing someone new into their orbit again or re-incorporating worktime scenting into the pack’s schedule and care plan but he hadn't been exactly ecstatic at the process either.

Was the company really established enough to support an omega full-time? Could they handle the stress of adjustment to someone new and juggle that with the stress of tours and promotions and shows? It's easier probably- if this omega isn't hired specifically for them as the last one had. It's probably for the best if this omega has more broad overarching responsibilities.

But certain factors had led him to agree even if he was tentative. Jimin had been looking so skinny- enough to set even the most respectful pack alpha on edge. Hoseok hadn’t even been pack alpha for that long either. Maybe two years at most.

Namjoon might lead the group in public but everyone could tell by just a simple look that it was Hoseok who really held the reigns. Who counted heads and double-checked the placement of a finger, a foot, a kiss. Who gripped the back of Namjoon’s neck when it became clear that the translators needed to do their jobs.

You were brought in during one of the usual monthly company meetings. All the heads of staff and Namjoon as group leader gathered in one big room, along with Hoseok and the designated pack alphas of the new groups not yet debuted.

Although Hoseok has taken a special interest in Chaewon and Soobin and taken them under his wing He knows that things might happen beyond the company's control- like what happened with him and Namjoon. Pack alpha and group leader are two separate titles. Two separate sets of responsibilities that often overlap.

But they're all starting to realize that Bangtan will always be the special case. They’re the model to emulate sure- but they’re also the exception to the rule. More than one pack has fallen apart because more than one alpha wanted to lead.

This building is still new to them, the freedom that comes with making the kind of money that they do now is new too. Namjoon hasn't even properly set up his studio yet and Yoongi is still insisting he can set up his furniture all on his own. Jungkook still does their laundry even though they could have it sent out. They don't have time for any of this.

Taehyung got lost on the way to practice the other day and had to hone in on them by scent alone. Jungkook is supposed to go into a rut in a few weeks right before an award show, if his usual rut schedule keeps, all of them can feel it coming. Hoseok has many more things on his mind than a new omega in their vicinity.

But that changes when you enter the meeting room.

Hoseok isn't thinking of a new omega and the possibilities that come with it when you walk into the room, he's only thinking of the veritable mountain of to-dos on his list after this meeting. There are several personal and public matters that require his attention and his job as pack alpha never ends.

There's a consult for Yoongi's shoulder surgery later that afternoon. And Namjoon had asked for his opinion on some rap lyrics. Jimin had asked for his eye on some new choreography and a meeting with the pack's dietician. And then after that, a meeting with an architect for their new pack house, something specially designed and renovated, more problems, reinforced steel beams, and the question that everyone was avoiding asking-

If the pack would like an omega nest room included in the plans.

On the outside, no one would ever expect Hoseok to be stressed, but he's three coffees in and not even halfway through his to-do list for the day. Namjoon knows, his hand is gripping the Hoseok’s knee under the table, a settling touch, a touch that says that if he needs- Namjoon can handle this.

But everything, everything in Hoseok's brain goes quiet at the sound of a knock on the door.

Biologically all omegas are pretty to alphas, it's just instinct and conditioning. Hoseok knows this as he stands with everyone at your entrance. It’s just biology that makes them all seem this way- delicate and gentle. Pretty in the way that small fragile flowers are pretty. The kind of thing that’s so small and cute that you just want to hold it to your chest and protect it. It’s not quite cute aggression but not far from it either.

So precious you think that if you touch them, you'll hurt them.

Hoseok thinks you might be unfairly pretty for an omega, enough that he does a bit of a double take. Looking up at you, then dropping into a bow a beat off from the others. He's not the only one, Namjoon's posture instantly straightens, even Bang Si-Hyuk at the head of the table stops tapping his pen and stands to shake your hand.

It's near-instantaneous, the way that the room falls into a hush, you aren't the first omega scenter that Bighit has hired- although usually- a scenter is a privilege only afforded to the pack during comeback season or stressful stretches of production where everything seems stalled. And even then- single sessions are much more reasonable.

But the company has more resources now, more resources that come with things like younger groups and world tours and now- a full-time scenter. Instantly Hoseok notices how you hold your head high regardless of the stares, simultaneously strong and vulnerable, trusting but cautious.

His alpha, usually controlled on a short leash, lifts its head and sniffs at the air.

By the window, Mr. Lee traces your movement across the room with his eyes as the CFO outlines the ideal schedule regarding scenting. How the online portal will function with time slots booked out at a dozen different times per day for multiple alpha sessions or single ones, less if you feel you're overwhelmed.

You'll be free to roam around the building whenever you desire for all other times, moving from space to space without the hassle of locked doors. Even just having an omega's scent circulating through the HVAC system will boost productivity by an estimated 11%.

Having the freedom to choose where you'll nest will only add to that. the last of them should be set up by the end of the day. There will be 4 on every floor and one in each practice room. If you like a spot that doesn't have one all you have to do is ask and they'll move it. This is something that would normally be left up to a regular manager but the CFO had insisted that he be personally responsible for your 'matriculation' as he puts it.

Hoseok doesn't like it one bit. He's not the only one, Mr. Lee subtly steps forward and Namjoon's jaw ticks. As the CFO is an alpha, and 10 years older than him and 15 years older than you. But it's all outlined in your contract, work hours, and obligations.

Boundaries. Boundaries are a good thing.

Seokjin had asked to read it over a few weeks later, just to make sure there was no possible way you could be taken advantage of. There are so many new people around these days. New support staff, new stylists, new trainees.

But Bangtan is the breadwinner here, Namjoon and Hoseok are on the board and this is a big decision. It's reasonable- isn't it? That the people who built the company would double check and would make sure that a new very important employee wasn't being taken advantage of.

There was no way the pack alpha of the largest group in the industry was going to hire an omega without putting in the legwork. Of course, Hoseok had put Jin up to it. But still- your photo on your application did not do you justice.

You blush at the CFO's praises, and at his insistence that your freedom to go where you feel you're needed in the company was of paramount importance a little over the top even to Hoseok’s ears. Your scent sweetens a little. Not necessarily in the way that indicated arousal or anything untoward like that, but the type of scent that indicates ease and comfort and that omega is feeling safe.

Namjoon's lips part to breathe in more of it. It's so strange to Hoseok's system that he gets a little hazy-headed, missing the next thing you say, your introduction, most of it. Blood roars in his ears as he watches you.

You’d been drawn into this company for several reasons, one being the generous pay- almost twice as much as the industry standard and the overall description. You have the power to reject scenting sessions if you’re not feeling up to it, and the medical benefits are complete (as if the government-provided omegan care wasn’t top class- not every country provides it, but you’re not used to Korea, not yet.) Your schedule is up to you, the PTO is unlimited.

And they’re not even going to make you do paperwork.

If you’re not actively in a session with someone their only request is that you nest around the building if you feel comfortable enough to not do it in private. Other than that, you have an office with a TV and dimmable shades if you feel like taking a nap.

Hoseok should check that office, make sure it's in a well traveled and easily available place should anything happen- near a fire escape hopefully, closer to the ground floor just incase but not on the ground floor in the event of intruders either- Hoseok should-

Your eyes flicker to Hoseok's only once, and a jolt goes through his body. Barely managing to resist the urge to loose a growl. Namjoon's hold on Hoseok’s knee goes hard enough to bruise.

You are not necessary for the rest of the meeting, although you sit two people off from Bang Sihyuk, a few spaces to Hoseok’s left, in the corner of his eye but drawing over half his focus. Hoseok isn’t easily distracted; he’s not easily swayed.

If this is what it’s going to be like. He’s going to need to exercise his self-control and become its master very very quickly. He cannot do this job without absolute discipline- absolute focus- absolute-

You’re mostly quiet, why are you that way? Is something not to your liking? Did you eat? It's awfully early for an omega to be awake. Do you have someone who might mind that? Someone to look after you and keep you from waking up too early. If you have an alpha- they must be a good one, they must have the epitome of self-control to allow you to work so early in the day regardless of how it must tug on their instincts. The same way they're tugging on Hoseok's right now.

You do look a little sleepy. Maybe Hoseok should offer you his sweatshirt or perhaps guide you to his studio and the comfy deep couches or-

It doesn't end up being the most productive of meetings. Hoseok spends most of the time trying to work up the courage to say something to you. Ask your opinion on the comeback colors (He's worried he doesn't look good in pink), literally anything. Trying to untangle his words from his instincts enough to not sound like an asshole who thinks omega's can't handle themselves. Time running out and Hoseok is making a shit first impression. He can tell.

You don’t leave before bowing (something that instantly sends off alarm bells in Hoseok’s head). He almost wants to tell you that there's no need but he just stays silent. He's going to beat himself up over this for ages- he's such a fool. He can't even say hello. Heart rate elevated. Mind rambling. Hands shaking so hard that he has to grip the back of Namjoon's neck to keep from trembling all over the place.

What the fuck is going on.

Your Korean is a little stilted, but Hoseok doesn’t mind it at all. Body leaning into the way your voice wraps around the words.

"Thank you for looking after me."

You’re quiet, you’re shy. You’re soft.

You’re everything. Hoseok’s alpha whispers. You’re mine. Mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

Mine.

“It’s no problem at all.” "We're at your disposal." "If we do a bad job of that please let us know." "Do you need anything for today? There's lunch in the breakroom." "you don't need to bring your own- company lunch is apart of your contract." "That food is hardly nutritious though? I can get anything you like and have it delivered to your office...or mine." “My door is always open for you." "Mine too!”

Even Namjoon had offered, voice impossibly deep, near purring. "I'm here if you need anything. Hoseok hyung too." It's not how he usually sounds, it draws Hoseok's focus for just a second. His packmate is off, Hoseok can tell. Hoseok grips the back of Namjoon's neck again just slightly scruffing him, passing it off as brushing something off his shoulder.

He watches you follow the movement before you turn away, Mr. Lee is already holding the heavy door open for you. “I've got it.” it's the first time Hoseok has heard Mr. Lee speak all month. Usually laconic, usually unspeaking. Not out of necessity but just because that's the way he is.

And the other alpha is even blushing.

Hoseok had stayed silent, he wouldn’t have been able to manage a sentence or a word even if he’d opened his mouth.

Later Yoongi will ask what you’re like, clicking through that song- a few hours into fiddling with the snare that just won’t seem to settle into the beat properly. The other alpha is always able to tell when Hoseok is on edge, and he hasn’t been able to relax since your meeting.

“How where they, they new omega?" Yoongi’s body is tense, he's been tense for hours and unwilling to just rip off the bandaid. Hoseok can sense it, but Hoseok and Yoongi have always had an easy sort of love. Hoseok does not let Yoongi stew alone but he does let him take his time to gather his thoughts.

His eyes are intent and dark. Hoseok reaches over slowly, careful not to spook him, settling his hand on the back of his neck. Yoongi relaxes imperceptibly.

Hoseok leans forward, rubbing his mouth across Yoongi's clothed shoulder before leaning his chin there and sighing.

“We’ll be careful.”

He nuzzles again just a little. A temporary relief. Feeling his alpha roil beneath his skin before he straightens back up into his own chair, Yoongi's nuckles drag along his thigh.

It will take several days for Hoseok to calm down over which time he’ll throw himself into his work and do his best to avoid you. “She has a nice voice.”

Yoongi's clicking stops momentarily.

“You know, omega’s voices are pitched at a different decibel that activates a different portion of an alpha’s hindbrain.”

“You sound like Namjoon.”

Yoongi snorts, wrinkles his nose in the way that sort of looks like he's an angry kitten. hoseok feels himself smiling before he realizes it. shoulders unfurling from their tensed up position. “He told me that earlier. Right before he headed off to the department store.”

Hoseok swallows around a growl. Keeping his breathing measured. He didn't even notice Namjoon heading off- distracted as he was. Normally Hoseok is bound to let one or two things slip when they're stressed- around comeback season or near deadlines. But there are none of those any time soon.

He’s good at coping with stress. He’s not even sure why he’s so stressed out right now. “What was he getting? A welcome gift?”

“No, I think he was getting a nest for his studio.” Hoseok curses runs a hand through his hair, and clicks around aimlessly on the program. Listening to the track again one more time through. Aware that Yoongi is watching him and not the lines of progressing audio. Aware that he’s still awaiting a response.

“You’re worried. Why?” Yoongi is always straightforward, always to the point, backward hat and sweatpants, all of him at ease and comfortable here. Hoseok debates it. Letting Yoongi in, confiding in him.

“She seemed a little…fragile. My alpha had one hell of a reaction to it.” Hoseok finally decides. It's not exactly the truth- not exactly the chorus of 'mine mine mine' still running rampant in the back of his head, a buzz in his ears, annoying and distracting. All-consuming in the silence. Hoseok will let the rest of the pack come to their own conclusions.

“They all seem that way.”

“Yeah. But this was different.”

All he knew was that the second he saw you, he knew he’d do anything for you, anything to keep you happy, safe, and healthy. And those aren’t normal feelings to have for a stranger- omega or not.

Some hidden feral part of him might have liked it a bit too much. Your vulnerability and your earnestness. Unlike alpha's or the few other omega's that Hoseok has the opportunity to meet, you don't seem to be skilled in keeping your scent meditated into something gentle or less potent. You're unable to conceal your scent even though that’s what the company hires you for. Most omega scenters would at least make some effort towards privacy.

But not you. It's almost like you don't even realize it or that you don't have the energy for it.

No- you feel and it’s right there. All laid out on the table. Your scent is never subdued- through the whole of the meeting, you never seemed to even try to contain it either. Shifting in your seat made it sour- like you were uncomfortable. When the CFO had talked it had gone mellow and mute. Like your mind was wandering.

But it had been oddly genuine. The way your scent had flickered, untamed, startled, and nervous to shy. To surprised and pleased. And then for a moment when your eyes flickered to his almost…

Excited. Sweet.

Despite Hoseok's resistance to booking you out for a session, the rest of the pack's alphas and betas do not have the same misgivings. They book time to scent you through the online portal the first week just to meet you, then once a week after (twice in Namjoon's case, he's a little over eager). Even Jimin and Seokjin who need scenting only once a month book you out twice in the first ten days although the second time Hoseok's is pretty sure it's just to give you lunch and a break.

Hoseok gets used to your scent on them, after workouts and before meetings. On the elbow of Namjoon's jacket, the other alpha blushed at Hoseok's knowing and cautioning look. The day before a showcase and in the afternoon over dinner. There are hints of it everywhere.

Hoseok never scents another alpha on you, not in the hallway when he passes you or on the others inadvertently. Omega scents- they stick differently, on everywhere and everything. Biologically it makes sense from a resource standpoint. An olfactory claim- so that other omega's will not tread over their territory. Alpha's can scent each other like normal like that too- beta's similarly although it takes a substantial cuddle for the scent to stick (ie why Jimin is nearly permanently wrapped around them even on the best of days).

For the first five or ten minutes after a scenting you might carry a bit of an alpha's scent profile- which is why the company books you out with half-hour breaks between each appointment- just to give you time to recuperate and for the scent to dissipate. Omega's are slippery, skin too soft to hold onto a scent for long. Alpha's and beta's cannot scent omega's the conventional way- not if they want to indicate a claim.

An omega only smells like another alpha if they've been knotted by them.

It's a deeper, more complete sort of scent that doesn't fade for a few days. A twinge. A subtle edge of their scent. Hoseok hates a little that his alpha picks up on it, that no one's knotted you. not recently enough to tell. He waits preemptively, tail already half tucked, anticipating disappointment. But it never comes.

If you do have a partner (or partners as most omega's have) they must not knot you frequently or at all. He's too embarrassed to mention it to the others. To ask if they've noticed too. You just shouldn't talk about omega's that way- it's impolite to point it out.

There are other small hints of you everywhere. Hoseok passes by your office on his way from his practice room to his studio, noticing food and packages, roses, and channel shopping bags with a scoff.

It's not just your scent everywhere either, Hoseok's pack mentions your name casually, tones soft and velvety. Hoseok must be imagining things- because there's no way that the pack is already saying your name with a croon.

Hoseok feels like he's losing his mind.

Namjoon's late to practice again. Which doesn't help. And Hoseok's protest dies in his throat when he catches a wif of you on Namjoon.

"Sorry I was late, she fell asleep on me and I didn't want to wake her."

Yoongi has the opportunity to jump in before Hoseok even can. Still collecting his thoughts, trying to keep his alpha down. "Did she seem tired? Is she getting enough rest?"

"We should talk to management about reducing her number of avalible time slots." Seokjin comments.

"But then it will be even harder to get scented- my next time isn't until monday, 3 whole days hyung." Taehyung drapes himself over Yoongi's back to whine.

"At least you got to scent her this week already- mine's not until tomorrow." Jungkook's pout is audible to the ears. Hoseok's growl cuts him off.

"Guys- Focus."

Jungkook doesn't go into a rut before the award show, Jungkook goes into a rut the day after he schedules his first scenting with you. A few hours later. If Hoseok's being honest he'd say he's been able to scent the pre on him- thick and musky alpha ready for a fight- ready to protect and provide and prove- barely an hour after meeting you.

Fucking hell.

Hoseok can smell where you are from a hallway away and can sense it days after if you've walked by his studio. All of it. He pretends he's not keeping track of you. Occasionally he opens up the online portal on his phone, but he never works up the courage to make an appointment with you for a scenting. Even as the weeks drag on Hoseok’s alpha gets more and more restless.

Very few omegas work and even fewer packs allow them to. It’s a function of packs- a pack without an omega isn’t one that will survive for long and to have their focus shift is entirely counterproductive. There's too much fighting between alphas, too much jostling for position and resources. Even if you like each other, even if you love each other. Hoseok has learned that it’s not easy as pack alpha, balancing their wants, desires, and the needs of 7 different people.

Even without the whole international super-star thing.

But with an omega- everyone is calmer, everyone is settled. Everyone has one singular goal guiding every interaction. Every moment.

Protect. Provide. Keep safe.

Before you- the beta’s were a little bit of a placeholder for the alpha’s more dedicated instincts. Jimin loves to be fussed over, to have his contacts taken out and his skincare patted on and manhandled from room to room. Jin loves it when they stand close and measure his breathing, his movements, his everything. The touches to his knees, his hips, the way Jungkook nuzzles into his back just so.

But they can only handle it for so long without going a little bit crazy, their instincts might be a bit more willing to handle a bit of babying. But they still have their own instincts- however fickle.

Hoseok has done nothing but that since you came into his care. Is doing only one of those things tonight, provide. A sold-out show, lyrics on the tip of his tongue and breath filling his lungs. All of it is always worth it. He loves his job; he really does but-

He loves it a little bit less when it keeps him from you. Touring isn’t only taxing on him, but taxing on you too.

Disrupting an omegas schedule with long-term travel is not recommended medically, even less for you given your fragile health. Hoseok might not have acquiesced to it at all if you hadn't pouted, and might not have agreed to it at all if not for the circumstances.

You'd been unwilling to separate yourself from him. Not after finally getting him back after so long.

Hoseok can smell your sickness on the air before he even makes it out onto your floor of the hotel, his managers, staff, and Mr. Lee following his blind spots. In the elevator and all the way up, not saying anything, his hair standing on end, foot tapping as the numbers climb higher and higher to the penthouse suite.

Everyone stills for a moment when Hoseok enters, careful to stay where he can see them. The hush of an angry alpha on the air telling. Your hotel room is crowded with doctors. It shouldn't be surprising to him. It shouldn't be so grating. Hoseok should know, he’d called them all in before leaving today. Had insisted upon Seejin staying home, that Hoseok would be fine with one of the other managers today.

They crowd parts around the waist-high nest to let him through. The nest is plush and custom, one of two- the other of your nest has already been sent to your next hotel- a luxurious expense to have an omega nest follow you wherever you go- but one that Hoseok was more than willing to pay so that you can be comfortable wherever you go. They have more than enough money to spoil you, so why shouldn’t they? What use is any of this if the one person they promise to protect and provide for isn’t taken care of?

His heart clenches painfully when he spots you, breath going a little ragged.

you're a small heap, arms and legs tucked close like you're having trouble keeping yourself warm, or maybe like the nest is too big, too unsafe. You've tucked yourself into the side of the nest, eyes closed, cheeks flushed with fever, resting prone against the side walls. All so that the doctor can press his stethoscope to your throat, your heart, and your back to listen to your lungs. he doesn't hear hoseok, ears in the stethescope,

"Can you breathe deep for me sweetheart, there you go. That's a good omega."

Hoseok can't fucking breathe.

The doctor’s part around him and quiet and the tense inch of him that hadn’t relaxed, not during the performance or the ride over one bit, finally eased away.

Hoseok drops to his knees at the edge of the nest. Normally he’d never allow anyone, fan or not, the management or not- to see him on his knees. It’s not something that any alpha does in public without ridicule. But for you he hardly even notices. Leaning over the edge of the nest. All but ready to get into it.

His hand threads a shaky hand through your hair, it's hard to tell if he's instantly soothed by your presence alone or if your breathing calms just a little more. Hoseok strokes down the curve of your head. Your eyes are closed. Neither awake or asleep. You seek out his scent almost immediately, nose pressing with a zing to his inner wrist that goes straight to his chest. Letting out a soft exhausted chirp that makes his throat and heart feel all tight.

You make a soft trilling noise, a precious little omegan sound that under other circumstances Hoseok would never allow anyone to hear but the pack. The order is clear; alpha in my nest, please come, alpha here. Hoseok's body lurches and it takes more control than he has to keep himself from tumbling into your nest entirely.

There are people here, Hoseok's instincts have already decided they're threats. Hoseok must remove them before he comes in. You turn your face into his palm nuzzling and nosing. Trying to get more of his scent on you even though you’re too stuffed up to scent him. Your other hand loosely tangles with the fabric of his shirt.

“How is she?” He breathes. Eyes fixed on your face, measuring the puffiness under your eyes, the raw skin of your nose, the dryness of your lips. You whine and reach for him, a noise so heartbreaking it almost makes Hobi want to gnash his teeth.

Hoseok spots it, the tiny band-aid on the inside of your arm. Small, pink. He blinks down at it. Thumb treading close, you hiss a little, and at closer inspection- he sees it's a little bruised.

Hoseok goes deathly still. The doctor keeps talking, oblivious to Hoseok's frightening quiet. Rushing over himself to update Hoseok. He spares no detail. No detail at all.

Hoseok burns.

“Her fever peaked this afternoon at around 101.3 degrees, at which point ant-virials were administered orally. She’s eaten a little since then and her potassium and iron levels were taken, just to be sure. A banana bag was administered at-”

the doctor breaks off as Hoseok jerks, hands tightening to fists by his side. You nose at the spot where his hand just was your eyes still closed. You're so sick he can hardly even smell you, your scent dampened by the weight of your sickness.

Logically Hoseok knows it's just a cold. You get like this every time you get sick. But logic has no place here, not now. Not with you so weak.

“You mean to say- my omega was given an IV without my approval?” rage rolls off him in waves and Seejin reaches out to set a hand on his shoulder, Hoseok doesn't even remember standing up, doesn't remember trying to shove. But between one blink and the next he's nearly doing it. Hoseok’s self-control is hanging on by a thread. “And- You did that without notifying me first?"

Hoseok is not proud of his rage, he’s not proud of a lot of things. But defending his pack has nothing to do with ego or dominance. It has nothing to do with pride as he backs the doctor up against a wall. Nearly snapping his teeth at his neck. Hoseok’s alpha wants more than blood, more than something to break under his hands. Rage makes him tremble nearly violently.

Thank God for NDAs and goodwill. Tomorrow. When Hoseok isn’t acting like a cornered dog he’ll apologize probably with a fancy gift of some sort. This same doctor who resists the urge to cower will say. “Happens all the time, you know alphas.”

But hoseok doesn't know, right now all he knows is Rage. But for now, Hoseok is a threat. An alpha is always a threat around a sick omega. His laugh sounds cruel even to his own ears. “Do you enjoy being licensed to provide omegan care doctor?”

For what it’s worth, the grey-haired doctor hardly backs off, hands raised. Seejin and Mr. Lee come close, a gentle presence waiting to see if Hoseok will snap. Hoseok should remember that you’re not his property- that you can and often do make medical decisions on your own. But right now, Hoseok’s having a hard time separating need from fear.

Hoseok watches them from the corner of his eye, part of him begging for them to intervene. For a reason to get violent. his alpha tells him violence might fix this. Might solve everything might-

“If any of you ever do anything like that again I’ll make sure you-”

You tug on his pant leg, effectively cutting him off, completely extinguishing his anger. He looks down and you’re looking up at him. Half sprawled out of the nest to reach him; hand fisted. Mouth drawn down in a pout. Eyes cracked open.

The very first time you’d ever looked up at him from the confines of your nest had taken his breath away. This time is no different.

The first time had gone something like this:

He’d been in the practice room where you’d chosen to spend the afternoon, lured in by the promise of open windows and sunlight. Hoseok had never spent too much time around omegas before. Too much like cats, too tentative, too restless.

Most of the time he treats his twice-monthly scentings as something routine. An omegan café, high-end on the edge of the city. An omega scenter in comfy pajamas, a nest that smells of cleaning spray, all for him. Rinse and repeat.

Most of the time when he sees you’ve taken a spot in his favorite practice room, he closes the door softly with a quiet apology and just goes to the one next door. Unwilling to bother you with the squeak of his shoes and the pounding of the music.

Nesting isn’t like napping, omegas can tune out sound when they’re nesting- it’s more similar to torpor in a way or hibernation. The body’s metabolism slows down and omega's go vulnerable. The brain becomes sluggish. Scent strengthens while other bodily functions dwindle like heart rate and reaction time. It’s a very very important part of omegan recovery.

Hoseok doesn’t want to interrupt that in the slightest- especially given the nagging feeling in his chest. His instincts say something that's hard to parse through. A language that he's only half fluent in. Ever-present since you've been hired.

He sees you joke around with some of the trainees and sees each of them duck their head to receive a brief (and probably slightly illegal given scenting laws) rub of your wrist over their heads before their first showcase.

Hoseok sees things like that all the time and tries to stay calm through it. Reminding himself that you are an adult, that you are not vulnerable, and you are not constantly in danger. Despite what Hoseok’s instinct are having him believe.

He was content to switch and swap for the practice room with the best acoustics. But then the next day he’d gone to the alternative practice room again and found you there again too. Flip-flopping back and forth.

He’d told Namjoon and complained a little. "Doesn't she understand that I’m trying not to disturb her? I'm trying to be respectful." Both of their backs up against the practice room wall. Bodies sweaty, resting. Hoseok hands off his water bottle giving Namjoon the first sip.

"Has it occurred to you that she might want you to disturb her?" Hoseok's expression had twisted, Namjoon's knowing smile dimply, near unreadable.

"Joon-ah, What are you thinking?" Namjoon had stood, offered his hand, and pulled Hoseok to his feet.

"I think alphas are the ones that need to do the chasing, not the ones that get chased." 

So, the next day, after flip-flopping from room to room for weeks. He’d tread into his favorite practice room quietly, carefully, already able to tell you where in there from the sweetness of your scent on the air alone. The late afternoon stretches the sunset red beyond the windows. And Hoseok takes a deep breath of your scent (you've been in here for hours, it covers the air in thick blushes of berries that have goosebumps rising to his arms).

You don't notice, you don't hear, eyes staying fixed on the sunset. He makes a small noise in his throat. More submissive than he means it.

You look from the window to him.

Your scent- it’s hard to describe your and if asked Hoseok might fail to properly pinpoint it. It's something deep and fresh but sweet and airy like a summer evening with a nearly berry undertone. Blackberries or blueberries, the tart feeling of them hitting your tongue. It's a lovely scent, a unique one. Hoseok has never met another person omega or not- that smelled half as delicious as you.

You’d looked up at him and smiled. Hoseok’s throat had felt tight, his spine straighter than stretching could ever get it.

He waits a beat, another. He's completely forgotten why he's in here for a split second and he stumbles into the room. Voice shaky. Totally not a good first impression- this is the first time you've ever been alone together in the same room. The first time you've ever been one on one with Hoseok.

Hoseok is making a fool of himself. He should have brought food or maybe a gift like namjoon did. Maybe one of those fancy little drinks with the cut up fruit from the cafe downstairs.

“Is- is it alright if I practice in here?” He even stutters. He can hear Namjoon and Yoongi snickering from a floor away.

“Yes!” You’d chirped, resting your cheek against the edge of the nest, pausing before you’d continue. Squirming a little happily, and Hoseok huffs, sort of endeared, sort of less nervous just by how eager you seem. This is why you’re here in this room. He shouldn’t be blushing watching you shift and get comfortable in the nest.

He’s been measuring them- tracking the similarities from nest to nest, some omegas like a lot of blankets- others like a lot of pillows. But you don’t like too much, just a duvet occasionally in some of the other colder practice rooms- especially the ones underground. And a pillow now stuck between your knees for you to wrap your body around while you nest.

He might have seen you do that with Jungkook at one point. After his rut when he'd been a little… volatile. And he'd walked into the breakroom- the other alpha nearly completely tucked beneath your body. Hoseok might have spent hours thinking about it, it's hard not to notice and Hoseok knows omegas like to hug things but-

He might actually be going insane

“I've always wanted to watch you practice on your own!” hoseok flushes furiously and tries to turn away so you can't see, unsure what to say even less what to do. At second glance you're half lifting yourself out of the nest, something that sets off alarm bells in his head. Nearly makes him come close and shush you- ask you to sink back into it. "What one are you gonna do? Hope world? Or-" you prattle on while Hoseok's eyebrows climb higher and higher into his hairline.

Oh? Could it be that you're- that you're a fan? That you like their music. Hoseok's not sure why- but he didn't expect that, or expect this.

You are not strangers, you’ve met before. Only that time You were upright and Hoseok- shaking your hand careful not to squeeze too hard. Making the rounds to meet everyone personally. Eyes flickering from your clasped hands to your face and back again. Nostrils flaring as you caught his scent in the air.

Hoseok knows he smells good, like drippy mangos in the summertime. Sun-warmed fruit. Mellow but sticky. He preens a little at having an omega so obviously appreciate it.

You must not know what you’re doing to him at all as you lift your nose to the air and breathe deep, pausing in your listing of his many performances, eyes fluttering. He knows you like his scent as he sets up, out of the corner of his eye he catches something that looks suspiciously like a happy little shiver. If a beta or alpha did that it might be creepy- but an omega.

Hoseok might have scrubbed off his scent blockers just a little earlier. So you could smell him better.

This is different than your first meeting. This is the first time he’s ever been alone with you. You are the only two people here now. And the quiet and intimate proximity makes Hoseok’s skin feel tingly. But this is just what omega’s do, just what omega’s feel like. Hoseok had been warned that his body might have…peculiar reactions to being around an omega regularly for a prolonged period of time. Increased protective instincts.

The other boys aren’t here to soften the edge of tension with their puppy pile clamor. You attend their group practices a few times a week. Your officially booked time is a bit different, but when you’re not booked out and in the hours between your sessions with the other groups- you do gravitate a little to their spaces.

Hoseok’s not quite sure if he’s noticing a pattern or if his instincts are just overly hopeful.

But this is different. Feels different as Hoseok sets out his water bottle and queues up the music. His heart shouldn’t be beating so fast. “So you know our stuff?” He teases getting comfortable. You hide your blush under the edge of the nest.

"Just a little. I looked you up when I started working here-"

"Everythings to your liking?" He asks, checks, keeping you in his peripheries, mindful of startling you or making you nervous. Any omega would get nervous one on one with an alpha. You should never feel that way around him- Hoseok doesn't want you to.

"Yes- everyone's been so welcoming." He hums, it's more of a pur, more of a muted growl. When he looks back at you- you're looking at him. Eye contact. Too quick. Hoseok looks away.

He clears it out of his throat, shaking himself clean a little. "What do you wanna see? I don't usually take requests but-" For you I might. For you I would. Hoseok hides his flush by clicking around on the computer, audio files listed alphabetically. The concert arrangements- not the regular recordings.

You hum thoughtfully, tipping your head this way and that, leaning your chin against the omega nest. It’s a simple one, fairly standard. It sort of looks like an oversized cat bed, set up kind of minimally (something about that doesn’t please Hoseok’s alpha, although you do have similar omega nests in just about every room in the building, meant to facilitate your comfort in whichever space you might ask for).

Hoseok had come upon you asking two trainees to move yours to the hallway with all the windows (that was suspiciously close to his, Namjoon’s, and Yoongi’s studios.) It will be a few more weeks until you ask them if it's okay if you set up a private nest in the corner of their studios. Yoongi already has a spot cleared out just in case. Namjoon's had one set up in the first week.

The other day he had walked by just as you cupped their cheeks and dragged your wrist down their throats, the pair of alpha’s flushing red and smelling heady. A priceless reward and one that Hoseok was instantly jealous of.

Maybe he'll get that today.

Hoseok is always keenly aware of your nests when he finds them empty- they’re not always unadorned, sometimes there are pink frilly sweaters and sweatshirts draped over the edge. Gifts from alpha’s whose scent you like and betas too. There’s one in the waiting room with a maplestory plush that Jin keeps well-scented and you tend to tote from spot to spot. Jin smells as pretty as he looks; like fresh orange blossom and lemon slices, something citrusy and fresh.

During practice with you in the corner. Taehyung asks you why and you tell him gladly. easily. intimacy with others ins't always easy with a pack as close knit as there's they have friends too- but Hoseok is always nervous, always watching and making sure his pups are okay and not asking private personal questions that certainly are not work appropriate. He's just about to say something to Taehyung when you respond, resting your cheek across the top of the pink plush, blinking up at him blearily. "I like to hug things in my sleep,"

Yhe alpha had leaned over to ruffle your hair. You'd pressed up into the touch happily. "You're just like me! If you need to nap and I need to nap we should like- hug each other!"

That painfully obvious attempt at flirting had been the source of many teasing episodes over the last few weeks. Jungkook had needed to be taken over a lap for high-pitched. "You're just like me," More than once. An inside joke in the making if ever there was one. Taking care of his pack is easy for Hoseok, every movement practiced so many times he could do it with his eyes closed.

The next day, there might have been a full-sized teddy bear, scented by each member of the pack, waiting in your office for you. The pack had waited for Hobi to be done with a meeting just so that he could scent it too and he could scent it last, making his scent on it the strongest.

Call it a welcoming gift if you're too shy to call it a courting gift.

The pack's scents are a comforting overlap, one that Hoseok is intimately familiar with. He can smell that this nest, the one in his practice room, has traces of them. He knows the whole pack’s schedules and often wakes up early just to pour over it with coffee. And he knows that you’ve seen each of them over the last week for a session. That you see them every week that sometimes- you bump people to the next day just in case.

Hoseok just didn’t realize you’ve had your sessions here, in his practice room until right now.

Hoseok knows this, knows that you like his pack’s scent, and yet. You have nothing in this nest, nothing in his practice room from any of the others. Your omega nest is simple and unadorned in here. Here it's just you and just him. You tilt your head to the side, thoughtfully considering his question.

“The pretty one, the one that you and Jiminie do.” Jiminie huh, Hoseok’s alpha had purred, nicknames already. Hoseok doesn’t say anything, he just nods and queues up the track, turning it lower than he normally would. Aren’t omega’s ears more sensitive? Is that something that he should be worried about?

Hoseok doesn’t miss a single step, keenly aware of your chin perched on the edge of your nest. Intimately aware of your eyes on him following his every movement.

The world and everything outside of the room melts away. Until it's only the music and you.

~-~

It’s a far cry from now, as you peer up at him from the nest. Cheeks flushed with fever.  Tugging all of his attention inches away from this confrontation getting bloody. Hoseok's hands are claws against the alpha doctor's skin, one on his shoulder and the other on his throat. All Hoseok sees is red, all Hoseok sees is you. Hoseok is finally able to fixate on you again. For today at least, the performance is done. It is once again just you and him.

Scared, omega hurt. Omega might go, omega can't go. has to stay. Fear- no- it's terror. It's always terrifying when you're sick. Because one day you might not get better. One day that might be it. Protect, treat. Feed. Get rid of the threat of omega and keep omega safe. Soft omega, my omega, sick omega. Keep safe keep safe keep safe keep-

Your voice is so quiet, but Hoseok would hear it in a roaring stadium. Over 6,000 people or 60,000. It cuts through the panic, his heavy breath heaving in his chest, bones creaking with the force of his trembling. Their whole body out of wack.

Hoseok has only ever wanted for you to be okay. He wants it so badly that it burns in his throat. Worse than a lump, worse than an ache. A wound.

“Hobi." Your tone leaves no room for argument. "Stop it. You’re being mean.”

~-~

Notes:

the beginning part of this might be a little bit too much for me. i'm having alot of family issues right now. i did /not/ intend on putting it in this fic but oh wellllllllll

honestly i struggled to articulate their dynamic in the sections with jimin, hoseok, and namjoon also ft. yoongi but!!! i think i did a good job! and people wanted to see more of dom jimin. i wanted to emphasize that they're all dominant in some way over the m/c but they all step aside when they need to exercise those dominant feelings.

i love playing with reader expectations vs experience in fics, i really want you guys /as/ readers to question whether or not her parents were right in trying to hide her being an omega.

less notes this time because i kept getting distracted from this fic and all the shit that is going on in my life at the moment. not only bts's comeback but also just life stuff. my older sister is getting married next week so i will be away. because of that i might not get around to answering messages for a little while (either that or i'll be camped out responding to each and every one of them and escaping to this fantasy world lol)

[inseobts]

Sleight of Heart

nami x fem!reader

you flirt with men to manipulate them and get whatever you want from them, so what happens when you meet the strawhats?

a/n: happy pride month, my sapphics ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊

words count: 4.7k

tags: slow burn, thief x thief, post-timeskip, enemies to lovers, clever reader, tension

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sun burns bright over Asteria, a busy island full of life, music, and secrets. The Strawhat crew walks through the main market street, loud and colorful as always. You see them from a rooftop, leaning over a balcony with a half-eaten apple in your hand.

You already know who they are.

Monkey D. Luffy. Pirate captain. Rubber boy. Big smile. Easy to fool, if he’s distracted.

Roronoa Zoro. Strong. Grumpy. Bad with directions. Not your target.

Nico Robin. Too smart. Too calm. Too risky.

Franky, Usopp, Brook, Chopper… All dangerous in their own ways. At least for what you have in mind.

Vinsmoke Sanji...

Ah, Sanji. Weak for a pretty face.

Bingo!

But the one to truly worry about?

Nami.

You see her now, walking near the back of the group. Arms crossed. Eyes scanning. Calculating. You can almost feel her sharp mind from up here.

She’s just like you.

Too bad.

You jump down from the roof, land silently in a side alley, and slip into the crowd. You wait, moving carefully. You smile when Sanji walks closer.

Now or never.

You step into the open and “accidentally” bump into him.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” you say in a sweet voice, placing your hand on his chest lightly.

Sanji’s eyes turn into hearts instantly.

“Mon dieu! Are you okay, mademoiselle?” he asks, taking your hand and holding it like it’s made of gold.

You already slipped your fingers into his coat. There’s a bag of beli in there, too easy.

But before your hand can close around it, another hand grabs your wrist.

Strong. Quick.

“Nice try.”

You look up, and there she is. Nami. Amber eyes locked onto yours. She caught you but you don’t flinch.

Instead, you smirk “Took you long enough.”

Her eyebrows twitch “You knew I was watching?”

“I was counting on it.”

You twist your wrist, not to break free, but to slide a small coin into her palm. Her fingers close around it by instinct. She opens them. The coin is fake, cheap metal, painted gold.

Nami looks at it. Then at you.

You’re already gone.

Vanished into the crowd.

Back on the Sunny, Nami stares at the fake coin.

Robin notices “Trouble?”

“Maybe.” Nami slips the coin into her pocket “She’s good.”

Robin smiles “Good enough to fool you?”

Nami doesn’t answer but her lips curl into a tiny, curious smile “Not for long.”

The diner is loud. Full of clinking silverware, sizzling oil, and way too much talking. It smells like grilled fish and spiced rum. The Strawhats sit at a corner table, taking up too much space as usual.

You spot them through the window.

You grin.

They don’t see you yet. Not until you open the door and walk in like you belong there. No disguise, no tricks. Just confidence.

You grab a chair from a nearby table and drag it across the floor. The sound makes Zoro glance over. Luffy pauses mid-bite. Sanji... oh, he lights up the moment he sees you.

You sit down at their table like you’ve been invited “Miss me?”

“Angel!” Sanji gasps, nearly knocking over a glass “What a miracle—did fate bring you back to me so soon?”

You lean your elbow on the table, chin in your hand “Maybe I just like the way you blush.”

He practically melts into his suit.

“You shouldn’t be here” Nami says from across the table, arms crossed.

You don’t look at her.

You keep your eyes on Sanji “Is this the part where someone kicks me out?”

Luffy shrugs “You seem fun. I vote she stays.”

Chopper giggles. Usopp is nervous but interested. Brook’s just happy to have another pretty face at the table.

Zoro says nothing, which probably means he’s watching too closely.

“Can I get you something, mademoiselle?” Sanji asks, already rising from his seat “What do you drink? Wine? Tea? Something sweet like your voice?”

You tilt your head “Surprise me.”

Sanji bows low and rushes off to the counter.

You finally turn to Nami. She hasn’t stopped staring.

“Relax,” you say “I’m not here to rob you… again.”

“Then why are you here?”

You smirk “I like to fool men. Can you blame me?”

She blinks once. Not offended. Not angry.

Intrigued.

“You’re honest” she says slowly.

“Only when it makes people trust me.”

She nods once, almost like approval. But there’s something else under her gaze now... curiosity. Calculation. Maybe even respect.

“You know you won’t get far with Sanji” she says.

“Oh, I know,” you say with a wicked smile “But watch this.”

Sanji comes back with a fancy glass filled with something pink and fruity. A paper umbrella leans on the rim.

“For the goddess at our table” he announces, placing it in front of you.

You take a sip “Delicious. You made it?”

“Of course! I used—”

You interrupt, leaning in “You always treat strangers this nice? Or just the ones with long eyelashes?”

He stutters “N-no! I mean—yes? I mean—uh—it’s not like that!”

You laugh. It’s charming. Loud enough to make a few heads turn.

“Relax. You’re adorable.” you say, tapping his chest lightly.

His eyes go soft “I would die for you.”

You raise an eyebrow “Would you tell me anything I asked?”

“Anything!”

“Even secrets?”

He looks around, drops his voice, and leans in like a schoolboy “You wanna hear how I once cried over a sea king because it reminded me of a soup my mom used to make?”

Your smile grows wider.

Nami watches this with raised brows.

You glance her way, then wink.

You twirl the umbrella from your drink between your fingers, eyes moving from one Strawhat to the next.

Sanji’s already yours. He hangs off every word you say like you’re some sea goddess he dreamed into existence.

Brook’s not hard either. You only had to compliment his style and call him “elegant” before he offered to write you a song “May I see your panties?” he asked, and you only laughed. Poor guy nearly exploded when you said, “Buy me dessert first.”

Usopp? Easier than expected. You said, “You look like a man who’s seen real danger” and he told you five war stories in two minutes. You told him his aim must be deadly, he blushed red and nearly spilled his water.

Chopper shyly asked if you were a doctor too. You leaned in and whispered, “Only the kind that heals broken hearts.” He squeaked and hid behind his hat.

Even Franky cracked when you complimented his “super” arms and asked if he could build you a weapon one day.

Luffy… okay, maybe not “seduced” but even he’s laughing at your jokes now. You told him he has the best smile in the world. He gave you a piece of his meat.

Robin sips her tea slowly, watching it all unfold. She doesn’t say much but she’s watching.

“You’re really good at this” she says at last, smiling.

You smirk “I study people. Their tells, their weaknesses. Most men just want someone who listens. Or laughs. Or touches their hand at the right time.”

Nami raises an eyebrow “So that’s your trick? Manipulation?”

“Call it… understanding.” You shrug.

Robin chuckles behind her hand “You’ve gotten into all of them.”

“All but one...” Nami says, standing from her seat. She points across the table.

Zoro sits there, arms crossed, one eye half-closed, sipping his drink like this entire thing bores him.

You grin “Ah. The hard one.”

“If you can crack him,” Nami says, folding her arms, “I’ll give you something I’ve never told anyone about. A treasure I found on Skarva Island. Secret map. Gold. Real deal.”

Robin arches an eyebrow “You never told me about that.”

Nami just smiles “Didn’t need to.”

You look at Zoro, then back at Nami “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You lean back in your chair, cracking your knuckles “Oh, now this is fun.”

Zoro hasn’t said a word in ten minutes. He’s just sitting there, arms folded, eye on you like he’s waiting for something to impress him.

You know the type. Stoic. Quiet. Sharp under the silence.

You lean your elbows on the table, turning your full attention to him now.

“Zoro, right?” you say casually.

He grunts “Mm.”

You rest your chin in your hand “Swordsman. Second-in-command. Scary.”

He doesn’t answer.

You smile “You don’t talk much.”

“Nope.”

“Because you’re mysterious? Or because you just hate people?”

“Both.”

That gets a soft laugh out of Robin. Even Nami cracks a half-smile.

You nod slowly “You know… the strong silent type is the easiest to read.”

Zoro raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced “Oh yeah?”

You lean in a little “You watch everything, but you don’t say anything. That means you trust your instincts more than people.”

He blinks. Stays quiet.

“But here’s the catch,” you go on, tone softening just a bit “People like you don’t hate people. They hate wasting time on people. There’s a difference.”

You meet his gaze. Steady. Calm.

“And I think,” you continue, lowering your voice just slightly, “you already knew I wasn’t a threat.”

His eye narrows.

You grin.

“That’s why you didn’t stop me before. And you were watching if someone else would.” You nod toward Nami.

Zoro doesn’t smile but he gives the smallest shrug, and says, “You talk too much.”

You lean back and cross your arms smugly “Which is your way of saying I’m not wrong.”

Zoro does a short nod towards you before drinking again. Which means you’re right.

Robin claps once, slowly, amused.

“Impressive” she says.

Nami leans forward on the table, hands steepled, eyes on you now with intent.

“Alright,” she says “You win.”

You raise an eyebrow “The treasure?”

She taps her pocket, smirking “We’ll talk about it.”

Later, most of the crew gets distracted arguing over dessert. Sanji is still telling Brook about how your smile “cured his heart.” You, Robin, and Nami linger at the table, your drink now halfway gone.

Robin leans over, voice low and curious “So tell us the truth. Why all the charm games?”

You swirl your glass gently “Men are easy. Predictable. They react fast. It’s all surface-level with them.”

Nami quirks a brow “So you don’t actually like any of them?”

You smile. Not flirtatious this time. A little softer “No. I don’t play with people I’m interested in. That’d be too messy. Too… distracting.”

Robin watches you with interest “So… women?”

You meet her gaze, then glance toward Nami. You speak slowly, honestly this time.

“I don’t joke about women.” you say “They don’t deserve that. When I speak to a woman, I want it to mean something.”

Nami’s quiet. She stares at you for a beat too long.

Robin looks between you both, then just sips her drink.

“So…” Nami says eventually, voice quieter now, “you play men… but you respect women.”

You nod once “Exactly.”

She leans back in her chair, studying you again. But it’s different now. Less suspicion, more… interest. Like she’s trying to figure out what kind of game this is, but maybe hoping it’s not a game at all.

“Alright,” Nami says, slowly, “what do you mean… when you speak to me?”

You grin “I guess you’ll have to keep talking to find out.”

You’re still sitting with Robin and Nami, tension slowly turning into something warmer, when a sudden voice cuts through the table:

“Hey!”

It’s Luffy. Of course.

He’s leaning over three empty dessert plates like they wronged him, hands on the table, grinning at you.

“You should join my crew.”

Your eyebrows shoot up “…Sorry, what?”

“You’re sneaky!” Luffy says, like it’s a compliment “You’re fun. You tricked everybody. And you’re smart like Robin but more annoying, like Nami.”

“Wow, thanks” Nami mutters.

“I mean it,” Luffy insists “You could be useful for missions. Infiltrate stuff. Get into places. Pretend to be people. Like a spy! That’s cool.”

You blink, then laugh “You want a con artist on your ship?”

He grins wide “Yup!”

Usopp leans in “That’s actually not a bad idea. We’re always getting chased or caught.”

Sanji’s eyes sparkle “As long as she’s on our side…”

“I am not babysitting another thief” Nami cuts in but her voice is dry, not angry.

Robin tilts her head, smiling “She’s already halfway in.”

Zoro shrugs “Just don’t steal my swords and we’re fine.”

Chopper tugs your sleeve “Can you fight, though?”

Luffy’s eyes widen “Yeah! Can you fight?”

You lean back, stretch your arms above your head, then smirk “I don’t pick fights. But I finish them. Okay, that was corny, but look.”

You reach down and lift your pant leg, revealing a slim blade strapped to your thigh. Not flashy, silent. Practical. Deadly.

“Knives,” you say “Fast, quiet, and sharp.”

Robin nods “Elegant choice.”

Nami tilts her head “Do you use them well?”

You grab your knife, point at a bounty poster at the other side of the local, all people in the middle enjoying their night.

“Look at the “O” of “dead Or alive”.”

You throw the knife without even thinking twice and hit right in the middle of the “O”.

Everyone at the table goes quiet.

You turn back, raise your glass, and smile “Good enough?”

Luffy slams both hands on the table “You’re joining.”

You pause, sipping the last of your drink, watching them all. This is insane. Reckless. Completely dangerous.

But… kind of perfect.

You finally set the glass down.

“Alright,” you say “I’m in.”

Later, as everyone leaves the diner and heads toward the Sunny, Nami walks beside you, her arms crossed, a smile just playing on her lips.

“You really said yes.”

“I like chaos” you say.

She glances sideways “You’re gonna regret this.”

You nudge her with your shoulder “I doubt it. I haven’t had this much fun in a while.”

Nami slows her steps just slightly, walking closer “…Let’s see if you can keep up.”

You smirk “Oh, I plan to do more than that.”

It’s been almost two years since you joined the Straw Hats.

You’re not the new one anymore. You’re family. You share the table. The chaos. The fights. The treasure. The sky above the Sunny at night.

And most of all, you’ve earned your place.

Your role? Simple. Infiltrate. Extract. Disappear.

It’s your gift. You blend in. Play a role. Men talk too much when you smile the right way. Say the right thing. It’s always worked.

Until now.

You’re inside a high-end lounge in Arcaen Port, dressed sharp, drink untouched, eyes locked on your target across the velvet booth.

Except your target… is a woman.

She’s calm. Powerful. She’s watching you the same way you usually watch others. And you freeze.

You hesitate... not out of fear, but out of something else.

This isn’t the game you usually play. Women aren’t pawns. They’re not jokes. They don’t deserve to be manipulated. And they don't let people manipulated them.

That’s always been your rule.

But this woman has the information you need. Info on a Celestial delivery, something that could save thousands. Luffy’s counting on you. So is the rest of the crew. Franky needs it to stop a weapons shipment too.

You take a breath. Let the moment settle in your chest.

Your voice goes soft. Flirtatious “I couldn’t help noticing the way you walk like you own the room.”

The woman smiles, leaning closer.

Hook set.

But somewhere on the sea, back on the Sunny, Nami watches through the transponder snail video feed. Robin beside her, calm as always.

The rest of the crew is off deck, but Nami stayed behind, “just in case.”

She’s used to this. You, sweet-talking idiots who fall for your smirk. It never bothered her.

Not when it was men.

But this... this is different.

You hesitate at first. She saw it. The slight twitch in your eye. The flicker of something in your hand.

And then you push past it.

You lean into the woman. Smile. Tilt your head the way Nami knows too well. Touch her wrist. Laugh.

Nami’s stomach twists.

Robin is quiet. Watching. Always watching.

“You okay?” she asks, softly.

Nami crosses her arms, a little too tight “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Robin’s gaze lingers on her. But she doesn’t push.

Nami focuses back on the screen, where you’re now sliding closer to the woman. Saying something low. Intimate.

And something burns under her skin.

Jealousy.

A feeling she doesn’t recognize at first, because she’s never let herself have it. Never thought you with those men mattered.

But seeing you with a woman, doing what you swore you never would... it changes everything. Because now it could be real.

And Nami suddenly realizes something she didn’t want to admit.

She doesn’t want to watch this anymore.

She wants you.

Back on the Sunny, it’s chaos in quiet voices.

Sanji is pacing. Chopper is gnawing on his hoof. Usopp’s leaning on the railing, muttering, “She’s fine, right? She has to be fine.”

Nami’s already halfway to the mini-boat. Boots laced, windbreaker half-zipped, stubborn fire in her eyes.

“She said she doesn’t flirt with women,” she snaps “And now she’s all over one? What if something’s wrong?”

“She can handle it, Nami,” Zoro says flatly, arms crossed “You going there now could blow the whole thing.”

“She’s not stupid,” Robin says calmly “If she crossed her own line, it’s because it mattered.”

“You don’t get it,” Nami says suddenly, her voice rising “She—She’s reckless and arrogant and she thinks she’s untouchable—”

Luffy tilts his head “You’re mad?”

“Yes, I’m mad!” she snaps, throwing her arms up “She always flirts like it’s nothing! With every guy in every town! And now it’s with a woman and—”

She stops herself.

Everyone is quiet.

Even Sanji, for once, doesn’t speak.

Nami exhales, sharp and fast. Her fingers twitch like she wants to hit something and then, colder, she mutters “I hate her.”

Silence.

The kind of silence that doesn’t belong on this ship.

The kind that stretches a second too long.

And then your voice “Good to know.”

They all turn.

You’re standing at the edge of the deck, soaked in dim moonlight, cloak fluttering in the breeze. The shadows under your eyes say you heard enough.

Your tone is even, but there’s something off. The sharp glint that usually dances in your words is gone.

Nami’s eyes go wide.

You step onto the deck, holding up a small rolled scroll and a black coin “I got everything you needed. Names, routes, drop points. She cracked after three drinks and a smile.”

No one speaks.

You look… wrong.

Not physically hurt. Not bruised. But dimmed.

You hand the scroll to Robin without meeting her eyes.

“I’m gonna get some air” you mutter.

And just like that, you turn and walk toward the back of the ship, disappearing into the shadows near the observation deck.

The silence left behind is loud.

Luffy sits down, cross-legged, eyes on the floor “She looked… sad.”

“She never looks like that.” Usopp murmurs.

Robin just holds the scroll tight, her expression unreadable.

And Nami’s still frozen. Staring at where you stood. The wind tugging her hair around her face.

Her hands are clenched at her sides.

She doesn’t say a word.

You haven’t come back down since.

You’re still somewhere above, maybe the observation deck, maybe the crow’s nest. No one knows. Or maybe they just pretend not to.

Dinner came and went. You didn’t eat.

You always eat.

Sanji cooked your favorite. Left it warming, just in case. No one touched it.

Now, the moon is high, casting silver light across the Sunny’s deck. The sea is quiet. Almost too quiet.

Nami is pacing. Barefoot. Hair tied back. Jaw tight.

“She heard me,” she says for the fifth time “She heard me say I hate her.”

“She also heard the part before that.” Robin adds gently, sipping from a cup of warm tea.

Sanji leans against the mast, arms crossed, for once not playing the romantic fool “You don’t hate her.”

“I know I don’t!” Nami snaps “That’s the problem!”

Robin glances sideways at her “Then maybe it’s time you tell her.”

“I can’t just walk up there and say ‘Surprise, I don’t really hate you, I actually might be in love with you, sorry for being jealous of someone who didn’t even matter.’”

“Why not?” Sanji says simply.

Nami glares “You’re seriously okay with this?”

Sanji shrugs “You think I haven’t noticed? The way you look at her when she’s not watching? You only get mad when she flirts with someone smart. And now that she had to flirts with a woman.”

Nami groans “Sanji…”

He smiles softly, but it’s not his usual over-the-top grin “I want the both of you to be happy. Even if it’s not with me. That’s what love’s supposed to mean, right?”

Robin places a hand on Nami’s arm “You’re not alone in this. But she is. Right now. And that’s not fair.”

Nami’s shoulders drop. Her chest is tight.

She doesn’t like feelings. Doesn’t like being soft.

But this one’s already slipped through the cracks.

“Okay,” she whispers “Okay. I’ll go.”

You’re sitting at the back of the ship, legs dangling over the railing. The breeze cools your skin. You’re watching the stars but not really seeing them.

You didn’t cry. Not really. But your chest aches.

You always told yourself women were off-limits. You respected them too much. Admired them. Needed them to be real, not illusions.

And now Nami, of all people, thinks you’re just another act.

“Hey.”

You freeze at the voice behind you.

Nami steps slowly into view, hands in her pockets, hair messy from the wind.

“I’m not here to fight...” she says “Or yell. Or… accuse.”

You don’t speak.

“I messed up,” she continues “I got jealous, and instead of admitting it, I acted like a child. I said something I didn’t mean.”

You glance at her, finally “Why did it matter? Me flirting with her?”

Nami swallows “Because it was real.”

You tense.

“Because it wasn’t a game anymore,” she says quietly “Because you looked at her like you meant it. And that scared me.”

You stare at the waves “I didn’t mean it.”

A pause.

“I only did it for the mission,” you add “Even though it felt wrong. Even though I hated myself for it. Because I thought I could handle it for one time.”

Nami walks closer, sits beside you on the rail. Close, but not touching.

“I never wanted to be someone who made you feel like you weren’t safe here,” she says “But I did. And I’m sorry.”

The silence stretches again.

This time, it feels softer.

You speak low “Why are you really here, Nami?”

She meets your eyes, and her voice is so raw it almost hurts.

“Because I don’t hate you,” she says “I think I might… actually like you... like LIKE you… love… love you.”

Your breath catches.

You blink, stunned and then for the first time in days you smile.

The world is quiet.

Just the gentle hush of waves against the Sunny’s hull. The occasional creak of the ship. Stars hanging above you, soft and endless.

You stare at her.

Her words echo in your chest.

It’s everything and nothing. It’s terrifying. It’s real.

You laugh, breathless “You’re not saying that just because you feel guilty, are you?”

Nami rolls her eyes “Do I look like someone who says ‘I love you’ to fix guilt?”

“…Fair.”

She glances down, fingers brushing the edge of the railing beside you “I’m saying it because watching you with that woman—watching you break your own rules—made me realize something.”

You tilt your head “What?”

“That I don’t want anyone else getting that close to you again,” she murmurs “Even for a mission.”

You don’t say anything. You just look at her.

Her voice lowers “Not because I own you. But because I want to be the one who gets to be close.”

It comes out of you before you can stop it.

“Then be close.”

She blinks. Breath catches.

You shift. Slowly. Cautiously. A hand reaches out, halfway between you and her, fingers hovering.

Her hand meets yours.

Fingers slide together like they were always supposed to.

You watch her eyes. There’s still that spark. That fire. But it’s softer now. Waiting.

You lean in.

She meets you halfway.

The kiss is slow.

Not rushed. Not desperate. Just real.

Her lips are warm, sure. Her hand finds your cheek. You hold her waist. The world tilts for a moment, but you don’t fall. Not this time.

When you pull back, your forehead rests against hers.

Nami’s smiling.

So are you.

“Finally” she whispers.

You laugh “Yeah. Took us long enough.”

From somewhere above, faintly “WHOOOOOOA!!”

You freeze.

Nami freezes.

You both whip your heads up toward the crow’s nest.

Sanji’s head immediately disappears.

Robin’s voice follows, calm as ever “Sanji. We talked about spying.”

“IT WAS TOO ROMANTIC TO IGNORE” Sanji yells from somewhere off-screen.

You groan, covering your face. Nami’s laugh shakes her shoulders, and this time when she kisses you, quick and soft and just yours, she doesn’t hold back.

The next island is bright, busy, and full of overly confident men in shiny coats who think they invented charm.

Perfect hunting grounds.

The mission? Infiltrate a minor noble’s gala to collect intel about a secret Marine experiment. You and Robin are the inside team. Sanji’s security backup. Nami… is in charge of recon.

Or so she insists.

“Can I trust you not to fall in love in there?” Nami asks, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, the picture of dramatic girlfriend energy. You’re already halfway into your gala disguise: sleek dress, earrings, confidence dialed to ten.

You grin “You can trust me to do the job.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You lean in, kiss her on the cheek “I’ll be back before midnight. Try not to burn the ship out of jealousy while I’m gone.”

“Don’t test me.” she grumbles, but her cheeks are already pink.

Robin smiles softly beside you “You two are worse than Luffy and meat.”

Inside the Gala

“Darling,” purrs a man in gold-trimmed boots, bowing too low “Surely you’ve never been kissed by a general before?”

You smile politely, hand grazing his wrist just long enough to lift the coded invitation from his pocket.

“Not yet.” you reply sweetly.

Robin snorts behind her wine glass.

“I swear I’m going to stab someone.” Nami growls from the comms, listening in from the ship.

“You said she was retired from flirting.” Sanji whispers dramatically.

“She lied!”

Back on the Sunny, hours later you strut up the gangplank, mission completed, dress a little rumpled, earrings gone, but smiling wide. Robin follows, calm as always.

“Hey, I got it!” you call “They’re planning to move the research to a sky island in a week. And the general thinks I like poetry.”

Luffy cheers “Let’s go steal stuff from the sky!!”

Franky whoops. Chopper claps. Usopp asks about fireworks.

Nami’s marching down the deck, fire in her eyes.

“You told him you like poetry?” she demands.

“It helped” you say innocently.

“You winked five times.”

“You were counting?”

She throws her hands in the air “I am dating the most frustrating woman in the world!”

You grin and tug her closer by the waist “Yeah, but I came back to you.”

That slows her. Just a bit.

Then she rolls her eyes and kisses you anyway “Next mission, I’m going in.”

“You sure?” you tease “I’m the master of disguise here.”

“I am the queen of jealousy.”

“That’s for sure.”

She squints at you “You want to test that?”

Robin sips tea behind you two “Please do. It’s entertaining.”

Sanji sighs dramatically in the background “Why are all the beautiful women already dating each other…”

Later that night, you lie on the deck with Nami curled against your side, her head on your shoulder, the sea whispering around you.

“You’re really not mad?” you ask softly.

She shakes her head “I’m always going to get a little jealous. But that’s just because I care.”

You smile, brushing her hair from her face “I’ll stop if you ask me to.”

She pauses.

Then grins “Don’t. I kind of like watching you work.”

You blink “Wait, what?”

“I said nothing.”

“Nami—”

“Goodnight.”

“NA—”

She kisses you again.

And just like that, the sea rolls on, and the two lovers lie under the stars, wrapped in sails, secrets, and the sweetest kind of trouble.

[sheerfreesia007]

Spoonfuls of Sweetness & Secrets

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Word count: 1,335

Content warnings: Fluff, slight angst, insecurities, self doubt

Summary: While sharing ice cream at the kitchen island, Jeongin opens up about his insecurities, prompting you to reveal the hidden struggles behind your confident mask. In a quiet exchange of support and understanding, a deeper bond forms between you, built on trust, warmth, and the promise to always be there for each other.

A/N: This was entirely inspired by the video from the kid’s room episode about Innie where Changbin and Hyunjin mention that he breaks down in front of them.

SKZ Taglist: @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @inlovewithstraykids, @channiesrightasscheek, @kaiyaba

@bookswillfindyouaway, @m-325

“Do you ever feel like you’re not enough?” Comes his soft spoken question. You whip your head up from your ice cream bowl and stare at the solemn man sitting next to you at your kitchen island. Jeongin or Innie as you now knew him sat next to you at your kitchen island staring into his neon colored ice cream bowl with a soft pout to his lips. 

Ever since the boys in Stray Kids had moved into your apartment complex, a year ago, on both your floor and the floor above you your life had gotten much busier and chaotic. With eight young men as your new neighbors, how could their chaos not leak into your life as well. Chan, who was the leader of the group, had already apologized ahead of time for his boys’ antics and would repeatedly send you either take out or flowers as a peace offering for the craziness of his boys. You had told him that it was perfectly fine and you weren’t bothered by the others’ crazy ways, plus you had become very close to all of them and viewed them as family at this point.

It was about six months after they had moved in that you had adopted the role of mediator and listening ear for the boys, that night Seungmin had showed up on your doorstep late asking if he could sleep in your guest bedroom since Felix had locked him out for not being home on time, the next day you had given each one of them a copy of your apartment key. When Seungmin had come to your apartment he had told you that Felix had actually barricaded the door in his pettiness to keep Seungmin out and the next morning you had had some strong words with Felix about keeping Seungmin out of his own home even if he had been home late. 

Chan had warned you that giving them all a key might be your biggest mistake but you told him it was fine. You had given the boys a set of rules, they were free to come into your apartment when you weren’t home but if they used anything in your apartment they needed to clean up after themselves and respect your privacy by not going into your bedroom. When you were home they were welcome to come visit but they needed to text you first in case you had company over already. So far they had all been more than accommodating of your rules and it had worked out for the better since the boys could get away from their own apartments and roommates and just hang out in your apartment if they needed a break or someone else to talk to that wasn’t involved or too close to the situation..

The most frequent one of the group to visit your apartment to talk about things had been Jeongin, he had quickly become a fast close friend of yours not only because his and Chan’s apartment was right next to yours but there was just an easy companionship that formed between the two of you. You couldn’t pinpoint it exactly but Innie was just easy to connect with even if there was an age gap between the two of you, he was more mature than his actual years and much more perceptive than he let on to others.

You sit there musing over his question before slowly tilting your head to the side wondering if you should talk to him about how you thought about yourself and how you were raised to not view yourself in a flattering light. You didn’t technically blame your parents for raising you that way, it was how they were raised by their own parents but there was a lot of self doubt and insecurity that developed thanks to your upbringing. And therapy was a slow process for you. Ultimately you decided to confide in him and hoped that your words would help him not feel the same way you did.

”A lot of the time.” You confess softly and he looks over at you with wide surprised eyes. You don’t look at him yet because you want to get your thoughts into words first before looking at him. “It’s a big part of how my mother and father raised me and talked about me when I was a kid.” You explain softly. “There’s always a sense of insecurity but I think because of my mother and father always telling me to do better no matter well I did on anything it kind of made my sense of self a little warped. I’m always striving for the next best thing to achieve, never really allowing myself to celebrate the things that I have achieved and always preparing for the next upgrade or the next level or the next promotion.” You explain before looking over at Innie who’s staring at you with wide knowing eyes as his head slowly nods.

”I didn’t know that you felt that way.” He said softly in awe as he stared at you. “You always seem so confident and sure of yourself whenever you’re around us.” You smile softly and nod your head.

”It’s just a mask, Innie. I don’t really like sharing my darker side around you guys. I don’t want to become a burden to you or the others you all have so much already going on that it wouldn’t be fair to dump my insecurities on you guys. I’d rather support you than need to be supported.” You tell him with a soft sad smile. You pick up your spoon and grab a spoonful of ice cream and let the sweet treat melt on your tongue slowly. You close your eyes focusing on the taste of the cream, sugar and vanilla flavoring letting yourself just exist in the moment like your therapist had started teaching you to do.

When you feel Innie’s warm hand cover yours on the island you open your eyes and turn your head to look at him. He’s watching you now with a new look in his eyes, an almost understanding sparkling out from his dark chocolate eyes and you feel your heart crack in your chest. You don’t want him to ever feel like you do but the fact that he does understand your feelings already makes your chest tight and your heart to crack.

”You can tell me Noona. I know I’m younger than the others but I’m here for you. I can be a good listener.” He said softly and you smiled softly at him before leaning to the side and resting your forehead on his shoulder for a moment and just breathed.

”You shouldn’t have to though Innie.” You said softly and he quickly shook his head in response.

”I want to. You’re there for me and the others, I want to be there for you. When it gets too heavy you can tell me and I’ll be here for you.” He said determinedly and you smiled softly as a warmth built in your chest at his concern and desire to care for you. You lifted your head from his shoulder and pressed a quick chaste kiss to his cheek without even thinking, just wanting to show him your thanks in the moment.

”Thanks Innie, and I’ll always be here for you if you ever need me.” You tell him softly before scooping up another spoonful of ice cream. When you notice that he’s grown quiet you turn to look at him and see that his cheeks are tinted pink in a pretty blush and you tilt your head in confusion but Innie just shakes his head quickly before scooping up a heaping spoonful of ice cream and shoving it into his mouth. Your eyes widen and so do his before he’s whining as the cold of the ice cream begins to affect him and you burst out laughing at his antics while shaking your head at him.

[warriorheart13-blog]

One Piece Ace x reader: Inferno

I love this song from Promare, it fit so well with Ace. My first time writing Angst/comfort with a songfic! I hope you like it @frostynight0265

---------------------------

Trails of fire

You always knew

They would carry me home

They'd lead me to you

Marineford... A battle that was gruesome and bloody... a war that almost destroyed hopes and families... A fight where he almost lost...you...

Though you can't see the sun.

A new day has begun.

And I fall out of bed to a siren call. In the frame on the wall see you in fire.

You guys are smiling at me and you inspire

"ACE!!" Your voice screamed out. He looked to you, he looked into your eyes. Your eyes looked frightened, but determined. Standing next to Pops on the main ship.

"I DON'T DESERVE THIS! IM NOT WORTH IT." He yelled out. He loved you, more than friends especially. But he couldnt risk it, risk you.

The war began, a race against the clock to free him, Luffy appearing from the sky seemed to have given the pirates a winning side.

Not good enough, If I just let them get away.

Not satisfied until I'm making 'em pay!

I'm a fool for adventure, you know?Inside my heart feelin' the Inferno!

Luffy had managed to get to Ace. With help from Mr. 3, Ace was freed from the sea prism cuffs. Now the new plan was to get out alive.

Until Luffy dropped Rayleighs vivre card, Akainu taking the chance to finish him off. Ace saw this and moved to protect Luffy. Unfortunately you saw this. No one knew you had a devil fruit power. They knew you were strong. Your devil fruit was the metal metal fruit: model Tungsten. The ability to make and manipulate Tungsten, which had high resistance to...lava..

Barely catchin' my breath,

Lay my eyes on the crest.

Gonna square up to all of the heat that is left

It happened so fast. Ace was expecting the feeling of heat melting him. He didnt and looked to see why. His eyes widened.

You stood in front of the two, a shield made of tungsten. Protecting them. But you couldn't hold it for very long.

Luckily Whitebeard came in time. After that, everything was a blur.

So, I carry the torch to Inferno! Inferno!

It's out of the park and I'm smilin' again

Here we go

You sat on the railings of the Moby Dick. The battle was over and everyone was recovering from their injuries. Able to bring Pops and Ace home. Pops was critical unfortunately and Marco was busy monitoring him and left Aces care to you.

You brushed the hair gently out of his face. Tears finally releasing from relief, you were so close to losing him...that you didnt know that he almost lost you too.

Having used a ton of your energy to make that large shield, you passed out. Ace had thought you were running with you when he realized you werent. He looked back to see Akainu praying on you this time, easy pickings. He watched as the admiral pick up your body with his hand.

"The pretty bird of Portgas D Ace...You will have to die in his place then." He said

Ace let out the most feral scream he's made in his life. He felt his flames burn brighter and hotter than ever before...

He had awaken his devil fruit. And had gone supernova flames.

I down a coffee, grab my axe and then I'm out.

I got a rage inside that's making me shout.

I get high on the fighting, you know?

Inside my heart feelin' the Inferno!

From what Marco had told you when you had woken up, Ace's flames were so hot that it started to vaporize the magma of Akainu, burning him even. He looked like starlight.

"Ace...you've done so much for me...i hope you know how much i love you, freckles and all..." you shut your eyes, praying.

"Youre the one good thing in my life...i couldnt let them take you..." Ace's voice came through making you quickly open your eyes.

"Ace!" You quickly lunged to hug him, him wrapping his arms around your waist snug.

"Hey birdie. Im so glad i have you...you make life worth living."

"I love you Ace. Youre a star in the sky and my home..."

I know, I know, I know, I know

I will be here for you wherever you go

"I love you too. You make me feel safe, make me feel seen, and make me feel i deserve to be alive." He said, before cupping your cheeks and leaning forward slightly to give a warm but gentle kiss.

It set off an inferno of warmth in your heart, spreading before you returned the kiss.

Marco found them asleep later on, so snug it looked like Ace was afraid to let you go, as if you'd disappear.

"Inferno of Love...how cute." Marco smiled and left to let them sleep.

Trails of fire

You always knew

They would carry me home

They'd lead me to you

All my life been searching for

The place I lost it's what I adore

And all my life been hoping for

A happy life for me

[zetomato]

The three states of QSMP play

I’m back for another neutral take (I know no one can be truly neutral, but I am ignoring my bias here alright? Good? Good.) linked to the QSMP! This time, with various kinds of plays on this server.

So. People talk a lot about “This one is always in RP-mode” and “This one doesn’t RP at all” etc. these days. But let’s break this down a bit, shall we?

Upon my many years of watching Minecraft server RP (aka, like 3 years, not that many but eh, they count), I’ve noticed something interesting in the way players interacted with the story line and their characters. In this analysis, I’ll focus on QSMP since it’s one server where players have said explicitly that they have “Characters” that they play. So let’s jump into this.

The first mode: Out-Of-RP (I’ll call it OORP)

This, despite what’s expected, is the least used by almost everybody on the QSMP (yes, yes, surprising for a few watchers, but let me explain). The OORP mode is one I define as: “When the Content Creator is fully out of game” This includes when anyone leaves their computer to go to the bathroom, when they mute themselves to reassure their chat that they’re doing intense RP and do not actually hate the others, when they talk about when they met in person (In Brazil, Paris, Vegas, etc). This is the mode where the things talked about are not linked at all to what would be happening right at this moment RP-wise.

The second mode: RP

This is what happens 90% of the time for most of the server. They do not have to actively be talking about their Lore, they can be building and talking to their chat about what’s happening, how the eggs are doing, what another character has said to them, etc. I define it as “When the Content Creator is playing their character”. The level of intensity varies between creators, but mostly, it is a very chill play. They sometimes are in that mode while huge Lore is happening and they aren’t super into it at the moment. They could be helping out, but they won’t react much to big events and might even distance themselves from the loudest people in the room. We saw that when BBH showed up with his amnesia RP when they got back to the server post Purgatory and Etoiles went OORP for a moment to say he was too tired to RP but still hang out with Bagi and BBH until he got too exhausted for the high-intensity of the scene and backed off. He was in RP mode when he cracked jokes and asked questions and answered Bagi’s worries, but he was way too exhausted to match the intensity of BBH. We saw that in multiple different exchanges and, yep! That’s RP still! It’s just easier to see the extravagant one when the other is more mellow, even if both are playing their characters.

The third and last mode: LORE

Alright, this one is very easy and yet I wanna describe it to be sure everyone’s on the same page. This one is “When the content creator is fully immersed and playing into his character about the events of the story.”. Now this one is tricky to distinguish from RP for some people/characters. For Philza, for exemple, when he goes into his “LORE Mode”, he changes the camera, the screen, the sounds, etc. Not all of the time, but it’s when it’s most visible. Almost everyone goes into LORE mode when something huge happens (Finding the eggs in Purgatory, meeting an important NPC, having their character Lore revealed, etc.) We saw this often during the Lore drops. When Baghera shared her Background in the federation, when Philza went to the Birdhouse, when Forever and Pac had their Happy Pills arc, when BBH played his grief when the eggs disappeared and when he came out of Purgatory… All of these were and are Lore moments which are easy to spot.

The problem with these is…

No one can watch absolutely everyone on the server. If not for the language barrier (Especially when some players’ translation breaks or when they do not put it on (that’s more of a problem considering the goal of multilingual conversation on the server)), for the sheer time needed to follow that. But this means that people will miss out on character LORE and RP for sure. People who don’t understand French will be lost when the French Content Creators mute themselves to point out something to their chat while speaking French. People who don’t understand Portuguese will be lost when watching Bagi and she starts speaking too fast to get a good translation. People who don’t understand Spanish will be lost when Mariana shows up and forget to properly set his translation after he speaks English for a while. People who don’t understand English will be lost when someone doesn’t set their translation when they start chatting around in English. And it is things that will and have happened. I know more Lore about Etoiles than some friends of mine because I don’t miss anything when he switches to French while in RP. Sometimes it's not a question of trying, it's a question of language barrier!

The real problem is actually when people start defining what constitutes the three modes by the way one or two Content Creators do them. No two have the same RP mode, the same LORE mode. Some are very intense on their RP so they go into LORE very smoothly, some are just as smooth but because both of these are more subtle. This server has a lot of people talking to each other for hours being in RP mode but since they don’t start doing LORE mode (which is more obvious), it passes over some people’s head that they are doing RP.

It’s a bit sad to follow someone for a while, following their POV, knowing how much they put into their character and how much they RP with the content they make. And then get someone who’s way more used to a brighter more obvious RP say that the creator you follow doesn’t do shit. It’s ok and expected to have many kinds! Heck! It’s great that we do! Or else the number of viewers would be lower. This way, people who like more intensive and noticeable RP and chaos can go towards the ones who give them that, and the viewers that prefer a more subtle approach where the big things are actually less noticeable, they can watch exactly that!

I won’t lie, I am enjoying the mellow side more than the energized one. I like to be able to work while I watch a stream, I’m able to when it’s two hours of building, or just people going across the map to find a dungeon. Purgatory, even while watching only one team most of the time, was way too exhausting for me, even if I had fun watching it and gosh every big event was nerve wracking, it was too much for me. I was glad to take a few days break for a while and, I will say it, BBH’s impressive intensive amnesia RP, viewed from Etoiles’ POV I was watching, drained me way faster than anything else. And you know what? That’s great! Because it means that people who love that kind of intensity are getting FED and that’s so cool.

Bottom line

I am begging for people to respect the fact that no two people have the same kind of play and RP. I have absolutely nothing against any personal preference since I know that what I enjoy makes other people fully bored, but words matter. No one out there should be going around saying “This CC’s RP suck! They don’t even do any!” when it just isn’t true. “This CC’s RP is way too subtle for me, I don’t even feel like they do any” THAT is a good take. If I agree or not with it, it doesn’t matter, but people are getting way too comfortable sharing their personal feelings as facts and that is why we slide into toxicity and anger towards each other. I personally don’t vibe with BBH’s more intense RP. And? It’s far from being bad RP, it’s just not my cup of tea!

TL:DR;

There are 3 Modes: Out-Of-RP which is fully meta, RP which is being in-character, and LORE which is being very intensively in character linked to events. No two streamers on the QSMP have the same level of intensity in RP and LORE and that is perfectly fine. Just don’t spread your preferences as if they were facts, it’s what feeds toxic exchanges and it can be fixed really easily by changing how you bring things to the table.

Thanks for taking time to read!

[alygator77]

──little things like this

a/n. just something small i felt like writing 🫶🏻 what i imagine grocery shopping with satoru would be like.

cw. domestic fluff. dad! satoru. husband! satoru. and just... satoru being satoru. also, he's missing you (like, a lot).

You should’ve known better than to bring him.

It was supposed to be a quick trip—milk, eggs, veggies, rice, soy sauce. Easy. You had dinner planned and everything. His favorite—the one he always says you make better than anyone. The one he begged you to cook the first night he stayed over, back when you were still figuring each other out in that too-small apartment with the broken stove and mismatched bowls. He used to sit barefoot on the counter, freshly showered, stealing bites before you could plate anything.

But now?

Now you’re married to Satoru Gojo, and he’s pushing your daughter through a grocery store like it’s the highlight of his week—sunglasses shoved into his windblown white hair, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He’d just come off a string of missions, barely enough time to breathe between them, but when you mentioned needing to grab a few things, he immediately offered to come. Said he missed you. Said he wanted to do “normal stuff.”

Which might’ve sounded sweet, sure—until somewhere between produce and frozen foods, he completely veered off-script. And now, fifteen minutes in, your cart is a sugar bomb. Sour gummies. Five flavors of Pocky. A jumbo bag of marshmallows no one in your household has ever requested.

Though here he is, your husband, pushing your cart with one hand, lighting up in pure joy at every little treat you come across through the aisles.

“Satoru Gojo…” you deadpan as he reaches for a pack of cookies. “That is not on the list.”

Clicking his tongue, he holds them up like a sacred offering.

“Buuut… neither were you,” he hums, batting those ridiculously pretty blue eyes. “And yet—best thing I ever brought home.”

Narrowing your eyes, he smirks.

“’toru…” you sigh. “I really don’t think we need more sugar in this cart.”

Tilting his head, he pretends to ponder. “Need? …nah,” he tosses them in the basket anyway. “But, deserve? Absolutely.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn back to the list on your phone. You have… what—three items checked off? You’re pretty sure Satoru has added at least seven more. And, he seems to be multiplying his haul by the minute.

As you make your way down the next aisle, your daughter’s delighted squeal draws your attention. Glancing over your shoulder, there is Satoru—holding up two bags of candy to her like a game show host.

“Mmkay princess… choose wisely,” he whispers, low and dramatic. “Red or blue. You get one.”

Babbling, her little hands reach forward, grasping for the blue one.

“Ahhh… strong choice,” he nods, handing it over. And then, with zero shame, he drops the red bag into the cart behind her back.

“Ahem…” you squint, and he straightens. “You said one?”

“What? She picked hers,” he says, all innocence, sliding his sunglasses down onto the bridge of his nose. “This one’s mine.”

You groan, laughing despite yourself, as he resumes pushing the cart—now like it’s a racecar, swerving down the aisle while your daughter giggles.

“Please don’t teach her to shop like you,” you call out.

“Too late~” he sing-songs, vanishing around the corner, muttering under his breath, “Drifting into dairy… snack thrusters engaged…”

You sigh—but there’s no real frustration in it. Just warmth. Familiarity. Love.

Because sometimes you forget—you’re not in that cramped apartment anymore, counting coins and comparing brands. Not since Satoru. You still catch yourself reaching for the cheapest option, still instinctively scan barcodes and double-check price tags. But he never even looks. He just fills the cart like it’s second nature. Like full shelves and soft snacks and mochi picked on a whim are things you deserve.

You’re still learning how to live like this—where love doesn’t feel like a debt, and money isn’t something to fear. And even though he could buy out the entire store without blinking, he still treats picking out snacks with you like it’s the most important thing he’ll do all week.

Shaking your head, you turn back to the list. Soy sauce. You still need soy sauce for his dinner.

But as you round the corner, you don’t find the aisle you’re looking for—you find him instead, crouched in front of the freezer, elbows resting on his knees, two tubs of ice cream in hand.

Why is he studying them like he’s trying to defuse a bomb? He looks… entirely perplexed.

“Satoru…” you step up beside him, brow raised. “You good?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He doesn’t look up. “Just, uh… evaluating options.”

Glancing down at the tubs—matcha and black sesame—you fold your arms.

“Umm… you evaluating them for fun, or is this, like, an actual crisis?”

“Mmm… crisis is a strong word,” he mutters, still avoiding your gaze. “It’s just… strategy. Y’know. Ice cream strategy.”

Crouching down beside him, you rest your hand on his knee.

“Uh-huh…?”

There’s a pause.

Then, he sighs through his nose. “Alright… fine. I… couldn’t remember which one you liked more,” he admits. “I thought it was matcha. But then I remembered that one week you wouldn’t touch it, so now I’m stuck here like a dumbass, spiraling in the frozen aisle…”

You try not to laugh. “You’re spiraling over ice cream?”

“I’m spiraling because it’s you,” he huffs. “I wanted to surprise you… thought maybe we could stay up late and eat it in bed like we used to?”

Your teasing slips away, replaced with something soft.

“Oh… Satoru.”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but there’s something in the way his voice lowers when he speaks again.

“I just… dunno. It feels like it’s been forever. Between missions, work, parenting—you’ve been running around nonstop. I just wanted tonight to feel kinda normal again. After dinner—after the princes goes to bed. Just… us? Even if it’s just ice cream.”

You watch him for a beat—your husband, who can bend reality, stand at the edge of the world, and still get hung up over picking the right tub of ice cream for you.

“I… like them both,” you mumble, bumping his shoulder gently against yours. “So why not both?”

He exhales like it physically relieves him. “Oh, thank god.”

You both stand, and without hesitation, he tosses both tubs into the basket.

“But… don’t go picking at mine and then pretending you didn’t like that flavor, okay?”

Grinning, you step ahead of him.

“Oh, I will steal yours. That’s marriage, babe.”

With a quiet laugh, he falls into step behind you.

“Brat.”

By the time you reach checkout, your cart holds three kinds of mochi ice cream, a suspiciously large bag of seaweed snacks, and absolutely no bread. Your daughter’s holding her bag of candy like it’s a stuffed animal, fussing while you try to scan it, and you’re juggling a reusable bag, along with what’s left of your patience while she begins to cry.

Noticing your frustration, Satoru slips in, insisting on scanning everything himself—for you. But when the self-checkout machine beeps loudly, his brows furrow and he pouts.

“The fuck? I did scan the damn carrots…” he mutters, narrowing his eyes, fumbling with the touch screen. “Don’t gaslight me... stupid thing..."

You sigh, somehow his presence makes the monotony feel… warm. And though this ‘quick trip’ has become what feels like an all-day event, you can’t deny how much you have also missed this man.

Outside, the air is soft with the promise of evening. Your daughter’s nodding off in her car seat, still hugging the candy bag like a teddy bear. Satoru loads the bags into the trunk with a proud little huff, dusting off his hands like he’s accomplished something huge.

“See?” he says, flashing a grin as he climbs into the passenger seat. “Told you grocery shopping as a family would be fun.”

You glance at the receipt. Then at him.

“You spent more in the snack aisle than on actual food….”

“I live off sugar and love. You know this.”

You roll your eyes, laughing under your breath as you slide into the driver’s seat. But as you buckle your seatbelt and glance down at the grocery list again, your heart sinks a little.

Did you…? Fuck.

You forgot the soy sauce.

Exhaling slowly, your gaze drifts over to Satoru in the passenger seat—slouched comfortably, eyes closed, perfectly content. The fading sun glows across his face, catching the edges of his smile.

“Y’know… I was gonna make your favorite tonight.”

His eyes open slowly. “Oh yeah?”

You nod. “But… we forgot the soy sauce.”

"...oh." He grimaces, genuinely. “Shit… I really thought I grabbed it,” he scratches the back of his head. “Want me to run back in real quick?”

You pause, then look at your daughter sleeping in the rearview mirror. Her gentle snore. The quiet hum of the car. The warmth in the air.

“No…” you murmur. “It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

You look at him again, and it hits you—not the ice cream, not the dinner. Little things like… this. Him. Her. This whole imperfect evening.

“Yeah… let’s get takeout,” you say, shifting the car into reverse. “We'll cuddle in bed. Split some ice cream.”

He smiles again, slow and warm.

“Deal.”

[hanniebaeee]

Call It What You Want

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI

Genre: friends with benefits to lovers, smut, fluff

Summary: You and Hyunjin have been doing this 'friends with benefits' thing for a while now. But let's be real. You love him. And when he starts showing similar feelings, you're terrified. And it leads to a whole lot of Hyunjin-style drama.

Call Me Yours

“Fuck, princess,” Hyunjin groaned, voice wrecked, “you’re so tight.”

He had you pinned to the bed, as he fucked you like the world’s about to end. His hips snapped against yours, each thrust hitting so deep you’re seeing stars. Galaxies even. His lips were on your neck, sucking bruises - which would have your art class whispering for weeks.

You pressed your eyes shut, losing yourself in him completely. The way he moved in and out of you. The soft wet sounds that filled the room. And him whispering the filthiest things in your ear.

You were barely coherent, nails digging into his back, pulling him closer. Hyunjin had this glint in his eye, as he shifted slightly, hitting that spot, and you choked out a moan, tugging at his short dark strands.

His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers circling your clit, and your orgasm hit you so hard, and you whimpered his name, clenching around him so tight, making him curse.

His thrusts turned sloppy as he whispered, “Fuck, that’s it,”

He came just as hard, burying himself deep inside you, and you were both panting, sweaty messes when he finally collapsed beside you. Pulling you close, he kissing your temple, and you let yourself enjoy it, just for a second.

It started about an year ago at a frat party you were dragged to by your friend, Jennie. You’d been sulking in a corner, nursing a warm beer, when Hyunjin, already tipsy, waltzed over, and declared you “the hottest grump he’d ever seen.” You’d scoffed at him, but in less than ten minutes, you had somehow ended up making out in his room upstairs.

One thing led to another, and now you were in this absurd, hilarious mess called, friends with benefits.

---

Hyunjin: You left your glasses on my nightstand. I can bring it over

You: Bring it to class tomorrow

Hyunjin: I’m keeping them hostage. 

You: Hyunjin 🙄

Hyunjin: Sleepover tomorrow? I’ll make pancakes.  

You: Maybe. But only for the pancakes.  

Hyunjin: Liar. You want my pancakes and you know what.

Hyunjin: Night, Nerd Queen 😘

You: Night, Hwang.  

---

You smiled at your phone, heart doing that stupid flip again. You knew you shouldn't be feeling like this. You two were friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. But every time you were with him, you fell for his stupid smile and his childish self way harder than you liked to admit. 

It was a Friday night, and you were curled up in your dorm, binge-watching a new series, when your phone started buzzing.

Hyunjin's frat was organizing a party, and he was probably charming the socks off everyone with his stupidly perfect face. You were trying to stay strong - no running to him tonight - because if you kept giving in to his every whim, he would surely figure out that you were completely, pathetically in love with his dramatic ass. 

And that was a secret you kept locked in a vault.

But Hyunjin? He wasn't making it easy. Your phone lit up again, and you caved, glancing at the screen.

---

Hyunjin: Babbyyyyyy where are you 😭 This party sucks without you! 

Hyunjin: Seriously, come over. I miss your face.  

You: You’re drunk, aren’t you? I’m staying in. Go flirt with your bros. 

Hyunjin: Drunk? Me? Pshh. Ok maybe a lil. But I only wanna flirt with youuuu.

Hyunjin: Come over, I’m lonely.

You: Lonely? Go cuddle Felix.

Hyunjin: Felix doesn’t moan like u do. 

You: Nope. I’m in my PJs, and I'm comfy. You’re on your own tonight.  

Hyunjin: I'm coming to you then. Can't escape me.  

You: Hyunjin, no. Stay at your party. You’re too drunk to walk across campus.  

Hyunjin: Too late. I'm on my way. Gonna cuddle you so hard you forget ur own name. 😤  

You: Oh my god. 

Hyunjin: I'm gonna climb into your bed and never leave. 

You: I’m locking my door.  

Hyunjin: You won't. You love me too much. 😘 Be there in 10. Wear that sweater I like.

---

You groaned, tossing your phone onto your bed. You should lock your door, but you don’t. Instead, you fix your hair, pull on that oversized sweater (the one he liked, because apparently you’re weak). Your heart did that stupid fluttery thing again, and you hated it. You were supposed to be the cool, studious introvert. But here you were. 

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You opened it, and there he was, looking like a dishevelled Greek god. His short hair and forehead glistening with sweat, his cheeks flushed, and his leather jacket slipping off one shoulder.

He gave you a sunny smile, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“My girl!” he slurred, stumbling forward and wrapping you in a sloppy hug. He smelled like beer and his cologne, and it was so unfairly intoxicating. “Told ya I’d come. Missed you so much.”

“You’re so drunk, Jinnie,” you said, but you were smiling as you guided him inside, shutting the door. “How did you even make it across campus without falling into a bush?”

“Love,” he declared dramatically, flopping onto your bed. “Love gave me wings.”

He patted the bed, saying “C’mere, nerd. I need cuddles.”

Then he decided that he couldn't wait, and grabbed your wrist, tugging you down next to him. You landed with a squeak, and he immediately buried his face in your neck, nuzzling like a needy puppy.

“Fuck, you smell so good. Like… home and sexy books.”

“Sexy books?” You laughed, pushing at his chest, but he’s clinging to you like a koala. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “God, I love you.”

He's drunk, you remind yourself. He doesn’t mean it. But your poor heart wished that he did. Meanwhile, his hands slid under your sweater, and you yelped as his cold fingers grazed you stomach to move up and cup your breasts.

“Hyunjin! Your hands are freezing!”

“Then warm me up,” he whined, and before you could stop him, he was crawling under your sweater, tugging it up and burrowing into it. “Lemme in, it’s cozy in there.”

“Oh my god, you won't fit under my sweater!” you laughed.

He was wiggling, his head and shoulders all the way under the fabric.

“You’re gonna rip it!” you squealed, but he just hummed, pressing his face into the space between your breasts. 

“Worth it,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Wanna live here forever. You’re so soft. And warm.”

You were dying, torn between shoving him off and melting at how stupidly cute he was. He was still trying to fit into your sweater, but finally gave up with a huff and whine and said, “Fine.”

And then settled for wrapping his entire body around you instead. He threw a leg over yours, arms squeezing you tight, face buried in your chest (half submerged in your sweater).

“This’ll do. For now.” he said, and you hummed, stroking his back. 

“You’re such a baby,” you said, and you both remained silent as his breathing slowed and you thought he was falling asleep. But then he murmured, “Love you…so fucking much. You’re my everything.”

Your heart stopped. You froze, hand still on his back, waiting for him to laugh it off or say something dumb. But he just snuggled closer, sighing like he was finally at peace. You swallowed hard, emotions bubbling up.

You loved him too. His childish giggles, his unhinged texts - but saying it felt too big, too scary. So you just hold him, letting the moment linger.

“Sleep, you idiot,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head (poking out through the neckline of your sweater). He hummed, already half-gone, and soon he was snoring softly, clinging to you like you’re his lifeline.

---

Hubby: Morning, wifey 😘 You're so cute when you sleep. Didn't wanna wanna wake you up. Let's go get some breakfast?

You: WIFEY? You changed your contact name to HUBBY? Hyunjin, I’m going to murder you.  

Hubby: Murder your husband? Harsh, babe.

You: You’re not my husband. You’re a silly boy who needs to stop stealing my phone.  

Hubby: I don’t have to steal anything. You're mine. Your phone’s mine. Deal with it, nerd.

You: You're delusional.

Hubby: Call it what you want

Hubby: Now come gimme a kiss, I’m dying😩  

---

You rolled your eyes, yet you were grinning like an idiot before kicking your feet and squealing into your pillow.

---

Later that day, you were in the library, trying to study, but Hyunjin had other plans. 

---

Hubby: Wifey, I’m lonely 😢 Lets study together. 

You: Stop calling me that. And I’m not falling for your tricks. I’m studying.  

Hubby: Tricks? Don't be so mean my love

You: I’m muting you.  

Hubby: You can’t mute your soulmate. Be real fir once, you can't resist me. 

You:  You're so full of yourself.

Hubby: Come over and you'll be full of me too 😉

You: Omg HYUNJIN. 

Hubby: Lmao you're so easy to rile up. Ok, I’ll be good. Love u, wifey. 

---

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. He was so stupidly endearing, and you hated how much you loved it. You were about to reply when a shadow fell over your table. You looked up, and there stood Hyunjin, holding a coffee and grinning. 

“Surprise, wifey!” he said, loud enough for it to echo through the library. He slid into the seat across from you, completely ignoring everyone’s glares. “Coffee for my love.”

“You’re not my husband,” you hissed, but you took the coffee. “And how are you even here? Don’t you have class?”

“Nope,” he said, leaning forward, chin in his hands. “Had to see you. I knew you'd be wearing those glasses and looking so cute…makes me wanna bend you over this table.”

Your jaw dropped, and you kicked him under the table. “Hyunjin! We’re in a library!”

He laughed, unbothered, and grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles.

“Can’t help it.” 

You snatched your hand back, face burning.

“You’re insane. Go away before I get kicked out.”

“Nope,” he said again, scooting closer until his knee brushed yours. “I’m staying. Gotta protect my wife from nerdy predators.”

He winked, and you were so torn, because you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe this was real. But this whole thing started off on sex. And you were worried that he'd get bored and he'd get over you. 

You tried to focus on your notes, but Hyunjin was making it absolutely impossible - humming softly, doodling “Mr. & Mrs. Hwang” in your notebook. You give him a glare and yanked your book away, ruining the cute doodle he was working on. 

He gave you a pouty look, and you narrowed your eyes at him. The usual Hyunjin would whine or tackle you into a hug. But he did none of that. Instead he stood up, putting your pen down as he held your gaze, and then just walked away. 

You watched him disappear, and for the first time ever, you were terrified. 

It has been three days since the library incident, and you’re losing your mind. No “wifey,” no texts about bending you over a library table. 

Nothing. Just… silence. The worst part? You missed it. You missed his childish whining, his needy cuddles, his sweet face. You tried to play it cool, but by day four, you were a mess.

You had just finished class and were walking towards the campus cafe, when you spotted him. Hyunjin. Reading. You did a double take, nearly spilling your drink. Since when did Hwang Hyunjin, read a book that thick? He was sitting under a tree, leaning against the trunk, looking so soft in his hoodie and glasses (glasses?!). Your heart squeezed, but you were also annoyed.

You marched over, plopping down next to him. He glanced up, one eyebrow raised, and went back to his book. No grin, no nothing. Just a cool, “Hey.”

“Hey?” you repeated, incredulous. “That’s it? Why are you ignoring me?”

He closed his book, looking at you with a neutral expression that was so unlike him it was creepy.

“I’m not ignoring you. I’m just… reading.”

“Reading?” You narrowed your eyes. “You haven’t spoken to me in days. What’s your deal?”

He shrugged, and said, “Figured you were sick of my ‘needy bullshit.’ You kept telling me to stop, so I stopped.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. He was being… serious?

“I didn’t mean stop everything. You’re acting like we’re strangers.” you snapped.

“I’m giving you space,” he said, his voice is tight. “You said I was too much. So, here’s not-too-much Hyunjin. Happy?”

Happy? You were miserable. But he was staring at you, all sulky and gorgeous, and you realized that he was on strike. No kisses, no touching, no sex. He was punishing you for resisting, and oh, it was working.

“You’re pouting,” you said, poking his cheek.

He swatted your hand away, but there was a flicker of his usual playfulness.

“Am not,” he muttered, turning back to his book. “Go study or whatever. I’m fine.”

You stared, heart twisting. He was hurt, and you did this. You pushed him away, and now he has dialled it back to zero. But you weren't letting him win this. You needed your Hyunjin back, drama and all.

You couldn't take another day of this cold-shoulder nonsense. You mustered the courage for what you were about to do, and walked to the frat house. Ignoring the party raging downstairs, you headed straight for Hyunjin’s room. You didn't knock - you just barged in, and there he was, at his desk, sketching. He was in a loose tank top, hair messy, pencil moving with that focused intensity that made him look so unfairly hot. He glanced up, startled, then leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Ever heard of knocking?” he asked, but there was a spark in his eyes, like he'd been waiting for you.

“Nope,” you said, shutting the door. “We need to talk.”

He raised an eyebrow, playing it cool, but that pout’s still there, lingering. “Talk then. I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, heart pounding. You’ve been resisting him for months, pretending you were not in love with him. But you were done fighting. You reached into your pocket and pull out the ring pop you had bought on a whim at the campus store - a cheap plastic band with a strawberry-flavored candy “diamond.” It was ridiculous, but you were desperate.

“Hyunjin,” you said, stepping closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away. I was scared. Because I have wanted more for a while now. I don't want to be someone you sleep with. I wanna be more. I miss you. I miss being your wifey. I miss you so damn much.”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything, so you kept going, holding up the candy ring.

“You wanna be my husband? Fine. Here’s your ring. Marry me, you idiot.”

For a second, he just stared, and you felt like you'd broken him. Then his face blooms - eyes sparkling, cheeks flushing, grin so wide it could overshadow the sun. He looked so happy, so Hyunjin, it was like the room got brighter.

“Wifey,” he breathed, voice shaking. “You’re proposing? With a candy ring? Fuck, that’s so cute. I think I'm gonna cry.”

“Please don’t cry,” you said, but you’re grinning too, heart racing. “Just say yes so I can stop feeling like an idiot.”

“Yes yes yes,” he said, jumping up and grabbing your face, kissing you so hard you stumbled back. His lips were soft and desperate, and you kissed him back, hands tangling in his hair, and it was like the world snapped back into place. He was yours, drama and all, and you were his.

The kiss deepened, all tongue and heat, and you were both gasping, pulling at each other like you’ve been starved. He lifted you onto his desk, knocking over his pencils and sketchbooks, and you laughed against his mouth.

“Careful, Hubby,” you teased, and he groaned, kissing you harder.

“Say it again,” he murmured, hands sliding under your shirt, warm and needy. “Please.”

“Hubby,” you whispered and he practically whimpered, pressing himself closer, lips trailing down your neck. You made out for what felt like hours, all sloppy kisses and wandering hands, until your lips were swollen and your hearts pounding.

Finally, you pulled back, both of you panting. He had the candy ring on his finger, and he looked so genuinely happy and excited.

“I love you so much,” he said, holding up his hand to admire the ring. “Strawberry’s my favorite.”

“You’re such a dork,” you mumbled, but you were beaming, because he’s your dork. “I love you, Jinnie.”

---

Hubby: My heart’s gonna explode.  

You: You survived the strike, you’ll live.

Hubby: Never. You looked so hot with that ring, though. Oh fuck, I'm hard again. 

You: HYUNJIN. Behave for five seconds.  

Hubby: Can’t. I’m married to the hottest nerd ever. I’m gonna kiss you forever.

You: I love you baby

Hubby: Fuck, I love you. My wifey. My nerdy goddess. I’m never shutting up again, you know that, right?  

You: Good. I missed your dramatic ass. 

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

[spideyjimin]

Wait for your love | jjk

—  pairing: firefighter!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: kind of exes to lovers, parents au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  summary: sixteen years ago, your life was turned upside down when you surrendered to the temptation — none other than jungkook, the star basketball player on your school’s team. today, after all that time, you reunite under tragic circumstances; a car crash where he saves your life.

—  words: 17,383

—  warnings: strong language, car accident, blood, mention of pregnancy, mention of cheating, mention of divorce, mention of sex, sever injuries, mention of death, crying, mention of heartbreak, mention of breakup, oc suffers quite a lot, mention of unprotected sex, mention of fire, mention of fighting, kissing, pain struggle, tattooed!jungkook, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, praising, oc and jungkook are needy, choking, a bit of fingering, a bit of handjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, morning sex, slow sex (is it even a thing?), and creampie

—  author’s note: so here you finally have this fic 🤗 i’ve been working on it for a little while already & i’ve adored writing it! To be honest, this is my fav jk that i’ve ever written 🫣I truly hope you’ll enjoy this fic as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it ✨ don’t hesitate to let me know what you think of it ❤️

—  playlist: supernatural | forget about us | standing next to you | bed chem | juno

MASTERLIST

The sound of the sirens echoes in your ears.

Your eyes are completely shut, your entire body hurts, and you put your hand on your head as if you’re trying to stop the pain you’re feeling. Slowly you try to open your eyes, and you see the completely broken windshield of your car. You take a look around to notice how damaged the inside of your car is.

It’s pretty bad.

Your eyes flutter shut once more, the effort to keep them open too much to bear. Gradually, you feel yourself falling asleep. As you slip into slumber, your mind is drawn back to a painful memory — the day you gave your son up for adoption.  

Being a teen mother wasn’t on your plans. Even though you really wanted to become a mother, it simply wasn’t possible then. Having a kid at sixteen wouldn’t be easy and for sure, you wouldn’t be able to offer a proper life to that kid. It wouldn’t be fair to him to keep him only because you wished to become a mother. He deserved to have a good life, to have loving parents, and to accomplish all his dreams.

On top of that, the baby was living proof that you cheated on your then-boyfriend. Definitely, you weren’t proud of yourself. The father of your baby was a bit of a jerk, but, when he found out about your pregnancy, he showed nothing but support. It was surprising, but it felt great to have him by your side.

Giving your son up for adoption was devastatingly hard. But it was the best for him. After that, you spent the last sixteen years wondering what he had become. Every boy you met that’d match his age; you’d wonder if it was him. And sometimes, you’d regret abandoning him. In those moments, crying was the only solution.

As hard as possible, you resist the urge to fall asleep, but the headache is making this battle hard to fight.

“Ma'am,” you hear a distant voice.

Those words echo in your mind, and strangely, it feels like this voice is a familiar one. The pain must be causing some hallucination, you think. But as hard as you can, you try to find out who could be the owner of that voice.

While you think, your eyes open a bit before closing again. Your hand remains on your head, and suddenly, you remember who it is. It is the father of your firstborn.

As you realize who it might be, you shake your head. It’s impossible to be him. After the birth of your baby, you went separate ways and never heard of him anymore. Sometimes, you hope to meet him again to check what he has become.

That man was handsome as hell so you’re absolutely sure that he found someone, got married, and had children. From time to time, you think about him and wonder if he also thinks about your baby as much as you do. Maybe he doesn’t since you’re convinced he has new children to think of.

But that’s silly of you to think that because after your firstborn, you had three other adorable children: two girls, Jia and Jiwoo, and a little boy, Jeong. Being their mother and caring about them never made you forget about your first.

On top of being a mother, you also got married to Minkyu. You met him three years after giving birth, and you were convinced he was the love of your life. However, you ended up divorcing after eight years of marriage. It wasn’t easy, you felt like a total failure. Now, you’re living on your own, sharing custody of your three babies with your ex-husband. Luckily, you remained on good terms, you’d even say you’re friends now.

For the past two years, you’ve been focusing on yourself which means no relationships. But that doesn’t exclude one-night stands. You’re very careful as you don’t want your children to one day stumble upon one of the guys you’ve been fucking with. And you also want to avoid getting pregnant again.

When you planned on stopping the pill to have a child with Minkyu, your gynecologist told you that you seemed to be the fertile type. She was quite right since you got pregnant right after stopping the pill. In three years, you had three kids. So, it explains it all. And it also explains how you easily got pregnant at sixteen, the only time you didn’t use protection.

Now, you’re wondering if this is how your life ends. You’ve last seen your kids four days ago, you’re probably never going to fall in love again, and you’re never going to see your firstborn. This is a tragic way to die. Your mind only thinks about your babies.

Although your mind feels disconnected from your body, you sense a pair of strong arms lifting you up.  Your body is completely sore, and even being held in someone’s arms is painful. The person is talking to you, or at least talking to someone but your brain doesn’t process the words at all.   

Then, the pain knocks you up.

Jungkook and his team got called for a car accident involving several cars, and when they arrived, the scene was horrific.

There are probably five cars pressed and smashed one against the other. There are people injured and bleeding walking around the scene. Paramedics are already taking care of them, but Jungkook is walking to the cars to retrieve the people stuck inside. His captain screams orders and tells him which car he should go to.

His eyes look around, his heart breaking when he sees everyone involved and still stuck in their cars. Visions like this are quite common for him, it doesn’t happen all the time but it’s still recurrent. At the end of the day, his job is to save people in this type of situation.

When he reaches the car, he was assigned to, he takes a look at how many people there are inside. There’s just one person, a woman behind the steering wheel. She has her hand on her head, clearly showing that she might have a headache. She doesn’t really move. Instantly, Jungkook tries to open the door, but it’s showing a bit of resistance.

It feels impossible to open the door, but Jungkook sees the woman’s head falling. He’s getting worrier; she’s slumping into sleep which isn’t a good sign as she was holding her head barely seconds ago. He then proceeds to break the window so he can try to open it from inside. There are other possible ways, but it would be harder and more dangerous to get her out of the vehicle.

“Ma’am,” he says with urge.

Eventually, he manages to open the damn door from the inside. A good part of the car’s front is crashing into her. Before even thinking of taking her out, he places a cervical collar to protect her neck and spine.

“Ma’am,” he repeats. “Can you hear me?”

She doesn’t answer at all. Jungkook gets closer, his fingers brushing the hair from her face, but when he finally gets to properly see the woman’s face, his heart skips a beat. This woman is none other than you. His mind can’t start to get lost in the past right now. He needs to focus on taking you out of the car.   

You’re in pretty bad shape.

There’s blood on your forehead, you most probably have a wound on top of your head. There’s also blood at the level of your stomach, turning your green shirt into a very dark color. He can distinguish a big fragment of glass shoved into your belly. It doesn’t look good. Your legs are also completely smashed by the front, causing the steering wheel to be very close to your body.  Hopefully, your legs aren’t too injured. He doesn’t even want to start thinking about all the bruises on your body.

Slowly, he places one hand behind your back while his other hand slowly pushes your legs. He’s trying to be as careful as possible to avoid causing any other injury.  His strong arms hold you once he manages to fully remove you from the car. His eyes look down at your face with evident pain. He notices how you’re trying to open your eyes which makes him think that you’re trying to fight the urge to fall asleep.

“Yn,” he says while walking to an ambulance. “Please, stay with me,” he whispers with despair. “I’ve finally found you, and I can’t lose you right away.”

A tear streams down his face as Jungkook begins to run. “Fuck, fuck,” he mumbles when he realizes that you’ve now fallen asleep.  “Help me here,” he shouts to some paramedics.

Two people run in his direction with a stretcher, and he carefully places you there. His eyes never leave you until you’re placed inside an ambulance.

Never did he think he’d find you like this. For the past sixteen years, he imagined the many ways he’d stumble upon you. He thought of meeting you randomly one day in the streets, in a shop, or even in a restaurant. Meeting you after a car crash wasn’t on his mind at all.

Jungkook then proceeds to take care of the other people stuck in their cars. His job isn’t over yet, other people are waiting for his help. Thankfully enough, after so many years of experience, he’s able to focus on what he has to do.

Slowly, you open your eyes. Instinctively, you place your hand on your head since you last remember having a headache, but it doesn’t hurt—at least not anymore. For a brief moment, you close your eyes again while trying to understand what happened.  

Once you open your eyes once more, you look around to realize that you’re lying on a hospital bed. You’re in a room, an individual one. Although you’re alone in a room, can hear many people talking outside.

In the midst of all the noise, you distinguish your sister’s voice. You can’t really understand what she’s saying but she seems worried. Somebody is talking to her, but you don’t recognize the voice. After a little while, your sister opens the door to join you.

A smile appears on her face when she sees you awake. “Yn,” she says before hugging you. You wrap your arms around her, she’s holding you tight. There’s no need for her to speak for you to understand she was dead worried. It also leaves you wondering if you’re really in a bad situation.  When she finally takes a step back, you can see how worried she is.

“I was death worried,” she says. “I thought you died.”

Those words crunch your heart. The simple thought of picturing your sister thinking that is heartbreaking. However, you’re still here. Maybe not in your best shape but you’re still alive.

“Death was too afraid of me,” you jokingly say.

“It’s not funny,” she’s definitely annoyed that you’re joking. “It’s very bad, yn.”

Her eyes don’t betray her, it doesn’t look great. For sure, it’s bad since you remember seeing your car completely destroyed. Memories of the car crash come back. It happened quite fast. The car in front of you didn’t notice the car on the left. Two vehicles in front of you suddenly collided with each other. Due to the small distance and minimal reaction time, you were unable to stop in time, which led to you colliding into the cars. The same happened to the cars behind colliding into you.

“Two people died in the crash, yn, and the doctors didn’t give me many details when they called me,” she explains.

“How long have I been here?” you ask.

It leaves you wondering how long it has been since the car crash happened.

“Almost two days,” she informs.

“Oh,” you simply say.

Your sister then proceeds to explain to you that you went through a couple of surgeries.

When you arrived, you had a glass shoved into your stomach and it caused some damage. You were bleeding internally so you first had surgery to remove the glass and stitch any part of your intestines that needed to be repaired.

On top of that, your knees were destroyed and a part of your hips was broken. So after the stomach surgery, you went through a long surgery to repair your knees, and later on, another one to repair your hips.

Your sister doesn’t know the specificities of the surgeries, but those surgeries are already a lot. She also tells you that you evidently have bruises and scratches all over your body. It definitely sounds bad, but you’re under the influence of painkillers so you don’t really feel anything so far.

“Where are Jia, Jiwoo, and Jeong?” you ask looking around.

“Minkyu took them back home a couple of hours ago,” she tells you.

If your sister was dead worried, you can’t even start to imagine how your kids were feeling. You have such a strong bond with them, and they are still so young; your little Jiwoo is only four years old. You don’t even doubt that they started imagining the worst.

“How are they?” you ask.

“As you can imagine, it’s been harder for them than for anyone else,” your heart aches. “They’ve been crying a lot.”

You close your eyes, holding back the tears. It breaks your heart to have put your babies through this. Even though it’s far from being your fault, you never want to hurt your babies like that. Your role as a mother is to protect them.

“We’ve all been there for them,” she adds.

A tear runs down your face.

“Don’t worry, big sis,” she says before hugging you once more. “They’ll be so happy to see you fully awake.”

You hold her tight in your embrace to comfort you in some kind of way. For a little while, you both stay like this.

“There’s been a firefighter coming to visit you every day,” she whispers in your ear. “A handsome one, actually.”

A little giggle escapes your lips.

“Stop saying nonsense,” you give her a little tap.

She takes a step back with the brightest smile on her face.

“I’m very serious, yn,” she says. “The firefighter that saved you has been coming to check up on you.”

Well, it sounds like he’s kind of adorable. It’s definitely very sweet of him to take the time to check up on you after saving your life.

“He’s extremely hot too,” she adds.

“Stop it,” you say. “You’re exaggerating!”

“I am not!” she instantly replies. “You’ll see when he comes.”

You roll your eyes. She’s definitely unbelievable as always, but she’s your sister. You love her beyond comprehension because she was your very first baby. You have a ten-year gap and you’ve been taking care of her since the very first minute she was born. Your parents had her very late; they were almost 40 years old but the happiest.

When you were around two, they started trying to have a second child. However, it didn’t go as planned. Your mother suffered two miscarriages and after that, it became even harder to have a child. Eventually, when you were around eight, they gave up. They were happy to have you and settled with the idea that you’d be an only child.

But against all odds, a year later, she got pregnant. The pregnancy went to full term, and that’s how you became a big sister.

The gap between you was harder around your teenage years. All you were thinking about was boys, and all she wanted was to play. She also wanted to have a younger sibling, but your parents were already too old for that. Your mum said that she couldn’t handle another big age gap between her kids.

Your sister was the happiest when you announced your pregnancy at sixteen. She was only six back then, and that baby would have been like the little sibling she always desired to have. She was devastated when you explained to her that you wouldn’t keep the baby. Your parents were too but they understood and supported your decision.

Outside your parents, nobody ever knew that Jungkook was the father of your first son. At first, your ex-boyfriend thought that he was the father, that maybe a condom broke and that’s how you got pregnant. But you always knew that he wasn’t the father. It simply wasn’t possible. It all got confirmed when you birthed a baby that looked a lot like Jungkook.

You still remember how heartbroken your ex was, and you couldn’t blame him. The breakup was too hard to handle back then so you never told anyone who the father was, except for Jungkook. He deserved to know the truth. You weren’t expecting much from him as he was the basketball star of your school team. And above anything else, he was a complete jerk.

Nevertheless, he proved you wrong when he supported you. He was by your side for the entirety of the pregnancy. He came to all the ultrasounds and gynecologist's appointments. He was there, and he completely stopped being a jerk to your eyes. Eventually, you became closer, but you refused to be more than friends even though you had strong feelings for him.

Why?

Because it’d be too hard to stay with him after giving up your son for adoption. Jungkook was also supposed to leave for one of the best colleges after that. It was in another city, and you knew he’d stay if you dated. You refused to let him give up his dreams for you. You broke his heart; you could see it in his eyes, but it was for the best. If you were meant to be, you’d find your way back. But it never happened. After that, you completely lose contact.  

There’s a knock on the door. Your sister proceeds to open it, letting the person come in. “Speaking of the devil,” she turns her head to look at you with the brightest smile on her face.

When the famous live-savior firefighter enters, the entire world completely freezes. The firefighter is none other than Jungkook. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet. After all these years, you finally see him again.

A smile spreads on his face when he sees you awake. You can tell that he’s relieved. For an instant, you take a proper look at him. He’s still wearing his firefighter uniform, indicating that he most probably came from a mission — if that’s the correct word to use. His hair is very short and a tiny bit messy. Above anything else, he absolutely looks tired, the dark circles under his eyes betraying him.

“Hi,” he simply says as he takes a step inside.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you reply.

Your sister is at first taken aback by the fact that you know his name, but as she takes a proper look at your facial expressions, she can tell that you know him.

“I’ll leave you two,” she says before disappearing.

“How are you feeling?” he asks while getting closer.

“I guess fine for now, but not sure, how I’ll feel when the painkillers will no longer have any effects.”   

His eyes scan your face while yours do the same. His beauty is still breathtaking; you’d even say that he aged like fine wine.

“Thanks for rescuing me from the car crash,” you add.

“No need to thank me,” he instantly replies. “It’s part of my job.”

“I still need to. Without you, I wouldn’t be here today.”

Even though it’s part of his job, he saved you, and he deserves to be thanked for that. You would have said it to any other firefighter.

“It’s good to see you awake,” he says.

There is so much you want to say to him, but at the same time, now that you have him in front of you, you don’t even know what to say.

“I just quickly passed by to check up on you,” he informs you. “I need to get back to work.”

“No problems,” you reply. “Thanks for coming.”

“Would you mind if I come back later?” he nervously asks.

Your heart is now racing in your chest. Of course, you want him to come back so you get to catch up and find out how he went from basketball player to firefighter.

“No, I wouldn’t mind,” a little smile appears on your face.

“Thanks,” he says before waving goodbye and leaving your room.

Seconds later, your sister storms inside your room. She has that expression on her face that says: ‘who the hell is this guy?’.

“Who is he?” she asks while taking a seat.

She’s definitely expecting to hear something like: “he’s a guy I slept with after my breakup”, or “I met him at a bar”, or anything of that sort because it was obvious there was something going on between you. The look you both had wasn’t saying we were simply friends. It was a look screaming “something hot and sexy happened between us”.

“The guy that knocked me up sixteen years ago.”

“Mama,” your oldest daughter, Jia says. “When are you leaving the hospital?”

An hour ago, the doctor in charge of you came to explain the extent of the situation to you. Since you now have metal wires in your knees, you’ll have to go through a long recovery, and you’ll have to follow physiotherapy to learn how to walk again.

On top of that, your intestines were stitched, and it will definitely be hard for a moment to eat and drink. So, for at least ten days, you’ll remain in observation at the hospital. There is for sure a very long recovery ahead of you, but what matters is that you’re still alive.

For what is coming, you know you can count on your family’s support, and without any doubts, seeing your babies will help you navigate the hard times. Obviously, you’re also very self-aware that sometimes, it might be too hard, and during those times, even your support system won’t be enough.

“I’ll stay for a little while, boo,” you answer.

She seems a bit sad by your answer which is totally understandable. Briefly, you take a look at Jiwoo and Jeong to see if they also look sad, and they have the exact same facial expression as their older sister.

Your ex-husband, Minkyu is also present. It’s logical since it’s his week with them, and also because you were literally in a coma. When your eyes meet, you give him a little smile. By the way he’s looking at you, he definitely seems worried.

“But you’ll see, time will go by super-fast,” you try to reassure them. “And very soon, I’ll be home with you.”

You can’t wait to go home and be with them even though for a little while, due to the recovery time, it won’t be easy at all. But you’ll be with your babies which honestly is the only thing that matters.

Your babies jump on the bed and hug you. Feeling all this love coming from the little human beings you create warms your heart beyond comprehension. Although the pain is starting to kick in, you pretend like you don’t feel anything because you want to savor this moment with them.

Jeong, your son, shows you what he drew at school for you. He takes the time to explain what it represents. It’s definitely adorable. Then, Jiwoo tells you how her day went by. She played a lot with her friends, she learned to count until 20, and her teacher told her she was an amazing learner. Her face was shining, and you couldn’t be prouder.

Your oldest daughter doesn’t speak much, letting her younger siblings talk. You then try to make her talk about her day, but she bursts into tears, hiding her face in your chest. Your heart definitely breaks while you hold her in your arms.

“What happened, boo?” you caress her back, trying to comfort her as much as you can.

She’s heavily crying, your shirt getting wet with her tears.

“My little boo-boo,” you whisper. “What’s going on?” you add. “Tell me.”

She hugs you even more which squeezes your heart. You don’t like seeing your babies like that.

“I thought you were dead, mommy,” she sniffs.

“Oooh, my boo-boo,” you really want to cry at her words. Imagining her thinking that is one thing but hearing her saying it out loud is something completely different. “I’m so sorry.” That’s all you can say.

Jiwoo and Jeong join the hug, trying in their own way to comfort their big sister. This is a heartwarming hug, and it comforts you beyond comprehension. It’s hard to see them like that, but it’ll get better with time. Minkyu joins you for what is like a family hug now. This right here is the only thing that you need.

After this uplifting moment, your ex-husband and babies leave you alone in this cold hospital room. They need to go back home; the kids need to wash, do their homework, and get ready for bed. You wish they could have stayed longer because you don’t want to stay alone.  

The pain is now unbearable, and it honestly scares you for the long recovery awaiting you. Luckily, right after your family left, a nurse came in to give you dinner together with strong painkillers.

The food is —as imagined— disgusting. There’s nothing you can do about it, but tomorrow, you’ll try to convince your sister to bring you a pizza or sushi or some fast food. There’s no way you’ll survive ten days with this horrible food.

A little later, someone knocks at the door. As promised earlier, Jungkook appears inside your room with a bright smile on his face. You return the smile as it honestly makes you happy that he’s here.

“Hi,” you say.

For a brief moment, your eyes linger on his figure. He’s no longer in his firefighter uniform;  he’s dressed in an all-black outfit that, in all honesty, suits him well. A pair of jeans, a tight shirt, and a leather jacket give him an entirely different vibe from earlier. His hair, now perfectly arranged, makes him look strikingly similar to how he did sixteen years ago.  

“Hi,” he walks closer to you.

His eyes notice the serving tray with the empty plate.

“Was it good?” he points to the empty plate.

“It definitely wasn’t,” a little laugh escapes your lips while you shake your head. “The good thing is that the dessert was a chocolate mousse.”

Jungkook’s smile grows bigger on his face.

“Your favorite dessert,” he whispers.

Now, you’re the one smiling more. When pregnant, you could eat a chocolate mousse without growing tired of it. Due to that, you gained quite some weight during your first pregnancy. Anyway, it was the least of your concerns since you knew you were about to give your son up for adoption.

“You still remember…”

“How couldn’t I?” he instantly says. “You were eating it night and day.”

You giggle as you remember it.

“You weren’t helping too,” you accuse him. “Whenever I’d ask for one, you’d make it, and you’re a good cooker.”

Jungkook was your personal chef. Whatever dish you’d ask for, he’d prepare it. His mousses were so delicious that you found yourself always craving them. The ones from the supermarket simply couldn’t compare to Jungkook’s.

“Well, for my defense, I couldn’t let a pregnant woman starve,” he puts his hands up.

It doesn’t feel like sixteen years happened since you last spoke. It’s great you found each other again. It wasn’t under great circumstances, but he’s here now.

“That was nice of you,” you gently say.

“Do you mind if I take a seat?” he points to the chair near your bed.

“No, no,” you shake your head.

Jungkook sits down before turning to you. He’s incredibly close now, allowing you to get a better look at him. He’s definitely gotten older, the wrinkles on his face can’t lie. The beginning of a beard is also easily noticeable.

“How bad does it hurt?” he seriously asks.

“Is it that obvious?” you say.

Jungkook nods. Honestly, this time around the painkillers aren’t helping much. Your entire body aches, you can’t even say which part hurts more.

“It’s pretty bad,” you answer. “Even with the painkillers now, it hurts like hell.”

“If you want, I can call a nurse,” he suggests.

“No, it’s fine,” you answer. “I’ll probably need to wait a bit more before it really takes effect.”

Jungkook doesn’t really listen to you since he leaves the room. You roll your eyes but with a big smile on your face. It’s incredible how he didn’t change after all these years. He used to never believe you when you were in pain.

A few seconds later, he comes back with a nurse. They are talking, and he’s explaining that I’m in extreme pain. He’s exaggerating a bit the reality. However, the nurse administers you a stronger painkiller and she also tells you that you shouldn’t hesitate to call her if you’re suffering. Then, she leaves. Slowly, you’re finally feeling the pain going away.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you tell him once the nurse leaves the room.

“Yes, I needed,” he instantly says. “There’s no way I was leaving you suffering unnecessarily.”

Jungkook seems definitely concerned.

“You don’t have to play the strong girl after this terrible car crash.”

He’s not wrong, but this is one of your flaws. You’ll only take a painkiller unless you don’t have much of a choice. Most of the time, you don’t take anything as you’re convinced you can handle anything.

You simply nod while Jungkook sits again on the chair. This time, you start talking about what has been going on in your lives for the past sixteen years.

Jungkook barely managed to finish his college years because he honestly had his mind somewhere else. After all, he had become a father, given his son up for adoption, and had his heart broken by the girl he always had a crush on. He didn’t mention the last part. He had tremendous regrets about how everything went down.

Right after college, he became a firefighter; a passion he randomly discovered the summer before. Saving lives, and helping others in need is what truly fulfills him. He considers his job as his own therapy even though it’s not always easy to deal with the horrific visions he might encounter.

Eight years ago, he met a French girl who had recently moved here. They fell in love and had a little boy, Noah. He’s four years old today; the same age as your youngest daughter. His eyes were filled with love when he started speaking about him. He said his boy is a mini version of his mother so he barely looks Korean. He even has blue eyes.

However, he’s no longer with her. They broke up three years ago and they aren’t really on good terms today. She already threatened to move back to France with Noah. They went through a tough legal battle for their son’s custody. It’s a shared one, and Jungkook’s parents are the intermediates between them. They pick up Noah at her place to bring him to Jungkook’s, and vice versa.  

It honestly broke your heart to hear about all that. It doesn’t seem to be an easy situation, and hearing his story makes you feel even more grateful for the good relationship you maintain with Minkyu.  

Then, you proceed to tell him about what your life has looked like for the past sixteen years.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about our son,” you honestly say.

Four months ago, on the 2nd of June to be precise, your son turned sixteen. He’s the age you were when you gave birth to him. Since that day, you’ve definitely been wondering what he has become. Is he also about to become a father? You hope not.

“Well, I always think about him, but lately, it’s been more than usual,” you explain. “And I also imagine him with my other kids, and I wonder what bond they’d have.”

Jungkook only nods. “I get that,” those are his only words.

You refrain from continuing to talk about your son as it seems to affect him in some way. Maybe it’s simply too hard for him to think about that son you didn’t keep. You understand that so you prefer to stop talking. But his next words definitely catch you by surprise.

“I’ve found our son.”

Seventeen years ago

As you step inside the pretty big basketball court, your eyes immediately look for a place to sit. There aren’t many people watching the team’s training. You place yourself in the very last row, almost as if you’re trying to hide yourself —or to hide your little secret.

Instinctively, your eyes look for Jungkook, the best basketball player. He’s the reason for your presence. Quickly, you take a look at your watch. The training should be over soon.

Your heart is beating crazily in your chest. What you have to tell him isn’t easy, especially since you don’t really know what to do. You’re actually even convinced that he’ll tell you to fuck off. Jungkook is known to be a jerk after all.

The man notices you while running in the court. His eyebrows frown, as you’re the last person he was expecting to see here. The past month has been hectic because things have been hot and cold with you. For a while already, he has been having a massive crush on you, but he’s never said anything because you’re in a relationship with Minho.

Even though he’s known to be an asshole, he never wanted to be the reason for your separation. However, last month, you had sex, and you’ve been feeling guilty since then. He can only understand you so he’s stayed away to give you the space you need. Nevertheless, you would sometimes interact and to his surprise, you’d be nice.

“Jungkook,” someone screams.

He grabs the ball that is thrown at him, and he’s focused again on the game. The end comes rapidly. Jungkook walks directly in your direction and you give him a little smile. As he gets closer, he instantly notices the sadness in your eyes. He sits down next to you with heavy breathing. His face is red, his hair is wet, and he’s all sweaty.

“Hi,” he says with a smile.

“Hi,” you reply.

Deep down, he’s kind of hoping you’re here to tell him that you’ve broken up with Minho. That’s all he’s ever wanted, especially since he slept with you.

“How are you?” he asks with evident concern.

“Not good,” you bite your lower lip, tears already forming in your eyes.

Jungkook directly pushes you into his arms to comfort you. Tears stream down your face while you hold him tight in your embrace. You hold him as if your world depends on it. Quickly, you start sobbing which breaks Jungkook’s heart. He’s definitely worried now, especially since he would have never imagined you coming to cry into his arms. He gently rubs your back in silence, letting you cry in peace.

This scene seems unreal to him.

After a little while, you take a step back to clean your face, dabbing at the tears that seem to not stop. You’re sure you look like a complete mess right now with your red eyes, face ravaged with tears, and trembling hands. Jungkook is staring at you, his gaze filled with heavy unspoken words.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Don’t worry,” he replies.

Jungkook tugs a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s not easy what I have to say,” you admit.

“It’s okay,” he gently says. “Take your time.”  

Jungkook has never been a jerk with you. He’s definitely a tease, and he’s been teasing you for months now. But he has never been mean or rude. Even though it’s been quite obvious to you that he was flirting with you all this time, he’s been nothing but respectful and never crossed the line.

But that was until you couldn’t resist him anymore.

Obviously, he’s a very handsome guy and it flattered you a lot that he was interested in you. However, you’re in a relationship with Minho. He’s been your boyfriend for a couple of months, and you adore him. But Jungkook has shaken everything up. It was obvious that one day you would surrender to temptation.

Jungkook is very good in bed, there’s no doubt about it. Your one-night stand was a memorable one, but you’ve felt nothing but guilt since then. And you also hate yourself. How could you have done that to Minho? He’s been nothing but an angel to you. You clearly don’t deserve him.

“I’m pregnant,” you admit.

Jungkook’s body freezes completely. Of all the things he was expecting to hear, this definitely wasn’t one of them. This is quite a bombshell! This will forever change your life, and he can only sympathize with you. Now, it leaves him wondering if he’s the father.

“Is it Minho’s?” he asks after a couple of seconds. “Or mine?”

“It’s yours,” you inform him.

Although this is a piece of very destabilizing news, he kind of feels proud to be the father of your child. It’s a weird feeling but the chances of him being the father are quite low since you’re in a relationship.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“Of course, I am,” you almost sound offended. “I always use protection with Minho,” you whisper. “And if you remember correctly, we didn’t.”

“Right,” he nods.

You were so in the heat that a condom was the last thing you both thought of, but you used the pullout method. Looks like it wasn’t the brightest idea. It would have been best if you had been more careful. Now it’s too late to go back in time. Now, there’s a baby on the way.  

“I’m so scared to tell him,” you admit.

Tears start running down your face again.

“What will I become now?” you add. “My life is ruined.”

Jungkook cleans your face because he doesn’t like to see you in this state.

“Your life isn’t ruined, yn,” his thumb caresses your cheek.

“How can’t it be ruined?” you desperately say. “I’m pregnant; I'll give birth in less than nine months. My life will all be about that baby, I’ll have to drop school, and I’ll have to be a parent when I’m still a kid.”

The man in front of you can only understand your despair. His life will also drastically change from now on. Most probably, he’ll also need to give up on his dream college to work and provide for this baby.

“I’m here, and we will find a solution,” he whispers. “You’re not alone.”

You shake your head. There’s no way you’ll find a solution. It is simple: there’s a baby on the way, and outside that, there’s the whole situation where you cheated on your boyfriend.

“And Minho will be completely heartbroken,” you start crying even more. “Out of all people, he’s the one that doesn’t deserve that!”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. For sure, it isn’t great to cheat on your partner, but he knows he’s very much capable of doing it without having any remorse. He’s perfectly aware that he isn’t the greatest guy on earth when it comes to love. Even though he has a crush on you, he isn’t convinced he’d be the right one for you.

“My life is destroyed,” you repeat once more.

The basketball player pulls you once again in his embrace. His strong arms are comforting, and you realize now that you did great by coming to talk to him.

“We’ll find a solution,” he whispers in your ear.

Little did you know at that moment that he was right. A week later, you both agreed to give your son up for adoption. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was the best one. You could feel it inside your bones.

From your room’s window, you admire the landscape that stretches before your eyes. The view isn’t the prettiest but at least, it’s something different than the tv. For the past three days, you could only be lying and sitting on your bed. It’s been horrible.

Jungkook has been coming every day to check up on you, and you’ve been talking a lot. It’s honestly so great to reunite again and to finally discover what he has become for the past years.

Your sister has been very curious about your reunion with the father of your firstborn. She also asked if Minkyu ever knew about him. You never hid from your ex-husband the existence of your first child, but you never told him who the father was. There was no need to do so.  

Your sister informed your parents who saved you, and they already saw him again. They really liked him when you were pregnant, so they were very happy to meet him again.

Jungkook didn’t tell them that he found your firstborn, and you’re grateful he didn’t because you don’t even know what to do. You asked him to give you some time to process the information. He’s been nothing but respectful.

This morning, you started walking for the first time since the surgery. It was beyond painful to even move one leg, but you bear with the pain of walking a little bit. Since the first day, you’ve been having physiotherapy sessions to help with the recovery. At first, the sessions only consisted of moving your legs while remaining in bed. Now, you get to walk a bit.

The physiotherapist handed you a cane today. It’s incredibly glamorous!

The good side is that you can now move from the bed to the chair more easily. You obviously still need a lot of help, but it gives you a bit more freedom.

Slowly, you try to stand up as you need to go to the bathroom. Right there, someone knocks at the door before entering. You expect to see the nurse since you call for her, but you’re surprised to see Jungkook. As he notices you struggling to get up, he rushes to help you out.

“Shouldn’t you be asking for the nurse to help you?” he asks.

“The nurse should be coming,” you reply.

“Is it okay if I place my hands on your waist?” you shake your head.

His hands instantly reach your waist, holding you firmly while you stand up with shaky legs. Feeling his presence around you reassures you, especially with his strong arms holding you. Your eyes quickly glance at him when you’re proudly standing up, and he looks incredibly hot with his red cheeks and messy hair.

At this precise moment, you feel like your teenage self, who was deeply attracted to him. The version of yourself who had deeply fallen in love with him when you were pregnant. That nostalgic feeling kind of warms your heart.

“I’m happy to see you finally out of that bed,” a smile spreads on his face when your eyes meet.

His stare is softer now, and it’s evident that he truly means what he just said.

“Me too,” you admit. “Couldn’t stand being on that bed anymore,” you laugh a little. “It’s been driving me crazy.”  

The nurse finally arrives, but she instantly leaves as you inform her that Jungkook is helping you.

At a very slow pace, you start walking in the bathroom’s direction. Jungkook stands next to you, his hands very close to you, ready to catch you any minute.

“I’ve been thinking,” you start saying as you put your right foot in front of the other.  

“About?” he asks.

It’s extremely frustrating to be walking as fast as a turtle, but there’s not much you can do right now.  You have brand-new knees, so you need to learn to walk with them, which will take some time. Plus, you also need to adjust to the pain these new knees cause.

“About our baby,” you answer.

Jungkook is taken a bit aback; he wasn’t expecting you to bring the topic up this early.

“About Sunny,” you add.

Sunny is the nickname you gave to your son. Neither you nor Jungkook wanted to give him a name, as you knew it’d be too heartbreaking to let him go. The nickname came naturally, and it gave your son a human dimension. When you were pregnant, it almost didn’t feel real that there was a human inside you since you couldn’t see him.

A little smile appears on his face as he remembers how you used to call your firstborn.

“I’d like to hear the story of how you found him.”

For the past sixteen years, you’ve dreamed of meeting your son one day, but it was just a dream. You never thought that it’d actually happen. Obviously, you could have done everything in your power to find him, but that wouldn’t be fair to him. However, you’re now curious to hear how Jungkook found him.

“Well, maybe you should go first to the bathroom because there’s a lot to be said,” you simply nod.

Jungkook is wearing his firefighter uniform, and it suits him incredibly well. It definitely shows off his toned chest which could satisfy any hungry eyes, like yours, for example. Any lady would like to be saved by him.

Once you arrive at the bathroom, he waits outside for you. It takes you a bit of time to pee, wash your hands, and leave the room. It’s painful too, and all you hope for is to go through this terrible phase as fast as possible.

The firefighter helps you to sit on the chair, and his kindness warms your heart. No doubt that he makes a great life savior.

“So, tell me about Sunny,” you say the second you’re comfortably sitting.

Jungkook takes another chair to face you, and he rests his arms on the little table placed in between you.

“I found him to same way I found you,” he looks down at his hands with a little smile on his face. “I was called for a fire in a building complex almost two years ago,” he starts explaining. “It was early in the morning, something like 6 am, and it was a pretty big fire. There was a fourteen-year-old lying on the floor, coughing like crazy so I naturally took him out of the building.”

Jungkook takes a little break, his eyes going from his hands to your eyes. His stare is intense; it unsettles you at first.

“Once outside, I almost felt like I was looking at you and myself at the same time,” his voice is soft. “And one of my colleagues even said that the kid oddly resembled me.”  

You can’t imagine how it must have felt for him.

“I instantly knew it was Sunny, but I kind of didn’t want to believe it,” his eyes clearly show how sad he feels. “If it wasn’t him, it would have broken me. I was already going through shit with my ex, so it wasn’t an easy time for me at that time.”

It’s visibly not easy for him to be talking about the situation with his ex-girlfriend.

“A couple of days later, he appeared at the station with his mother to thank me for saving him. In the daylight, it was more than obvious we shared DNA. Even a blind person could see the striking resemblance, but nobody said a word as if we were all scared to say the truth.”

“That must have been an unbelievable moment,” you whisper.

“It definitely was,” he chuckles. “But looking back now, it’s almost funny. I still remember how shocked his mother was when she first saw me. Sunny looked confused, but his mother’s reaction was extremely funny.”

It eases your heart to know that he looks back at that moment with delight.

“The day after, she came back but alone this time because she wanted to talk to me.”

His right hand grabs one of your fingers to play with it, causing your heart to hammer crazily in your chest. Jungkook is incredibly nervous to be talking about those moments, and he needs to look at something else than you.   

“As you can imagine, she asked me if I was his biological father, and all I could tell her was that I wasn’t sure. I then proceeded to tell her that I had a son at seventeen and that we gave him up for adoption. She naturally asked me when he was born, and then, there weren’t any doubts anymore. He was undoubtedly Sunny,” a smile full of pride appears on his face. “I’ve been in contact with him since then, but I don’t force anything. I’m just happy to see him.”

For a moment, you look at him with wonder. This man is evidently happy to have found his firstborn and to be able to be part of his life. Jungkook didn’t really want to give his son up for adoption, and you knew it. For a long time, you considered changing your mind because it was obvious that he wanted to be a father. Even though you were in love with him, adoption wasn’t about you or him. It was about Sunny.

That baby boy deserved to have a good life. Not a chaotic one where you regretted having him because he was the impersonation of your sin, or because he destroyed your life as you became a teen mom. You weren’t able to give him what he needed, and it was the best decision to have a family giving him what you couldn’t.

“What’s his name?” you ask.

Right now, you don’t know if you ever want to meet your son. It already brings you so much joy to know he found his biological father. But you’re also wondering what his name is. He has always been ‘Sunny’ to you.

“Taemoo,” he answers.

That’s a pretty name. His parents found the perfect name for that little boy.

“It’s beautiful,” you say.

“Not as pretty as Sunny,” he jokingly says.

Your fingers wrap around his right hand. This is a vulnerable moment for both of you. It brings you back to a past where you were confronted with a harsh reality. Nothing was easy back then. You were ripped between your hearts and minds. The heart wanted to keep Sunny, but the mind was being realistic.

The tears shed from the day you had to give him up still haunt you to this day. The heartbreak painted all over Jungkook’s face never leaves your mind. That day was the hardest day of your entire life; it ripped your heart open.

“Do you think there was a possibility we could have kept him?” you ask with a shaky voice.

His eyes look up at you.

“Maybe,” he frankly answers. “If we weren’t that young and stupid, we could have been the parents he needed.”

“I definitely was stupid,” you shake your head.

“You weren’t,” he says without any hesitation. “You made a mistake, but that doesn’t make you stupid.”

“Say that to Minho,” you retort.

Jungkook giggles.

“I would never approach him, even now,” that makes you smile. “My face still hurts from his punch.”

After the pregnancy announcement to your ex-boyfriend, it was pure chaos. Minho went completely out of control due to his heartbreak. Obviously, he insisted on knowing who the father was, but you never flinched. Nonetheless, he instantly understood that it was Jungkook. He had noticed how he was constantly teasing you.   

So, the first thing he did was punch Jungkook in the face. The basketball player didn’t even fight back as he believed he deserved it. After all, he slept with a taken woman with absolutely no regrets.

Minho got even angrier because he wanted the player to respond. He was devastated by what happened, and you could only understand him. The day after, he went to another high school, and you never heard from him anymore.

“To be honest, yn,” he starts saying. “Back then, there wasn’t a possibility to keep him. My soul wanted to keep him, but it was for selfish reasons. I wanted to be a father but couldn’t be one back then. There isn’t a day where I don’t feel grateful for the tough decision you took and stand for. It would have been a complete disaster.”

His hand squeezes yours, and just right there, with his words and touch, you just burst into tears. Those tears just came by total surprise, but deep down, those are the tears you’ve been holding back for sixteen years. Hearing about your son and remembering the harsh moments you faced when he was inside you caused reality to hit you right in the face.

Jungkook instantly pushes the table aside to hold you in his embrace. You place your face on the crook of his neck while your arms wrap around him. It feels like you’re brought back to seventeen years ago when you announced your pregnancy.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

“Don’t be sorry,” he responds. “You’re going through a lot now.”

There are some words Jungkook is dying to tell you, but it’s definitely not the appropriate moment. This is already shaking you up, so no need to add an extra layer.

Taemoo would like to meet you; it’s been actually one of his dreams. Jungkook has already told him a million things about you, and your son has been beyond happy to hear all those things about you. He also got to see a picture of you when you were sixteen.

So Jungkook definitely wants to tell you that Taemoo would like to meet you, but he doesn’t know if this is the right time, especially since he doesn’t know how you’ll react.

“Sometimes I regret so much that I gave him up,” you honestly say. “Sometimes it’s just unbearable to remember the day I handed him over to the adoption center.”

His strong hands caress your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“It’s normal,” he whispers. “I do too,” he admits. “There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about his birth and when we said our last goodbyes to him.”

You hold him tightly, his strong arms comforting you in an unbelievable way. You don’t want to let go of him. All you want is to cry in his arms until there aren’t any tears left.

“We did well, yn,” he tells you. “Sunny has been having a wonderful life. A life that we could have never given him,” he tries to reassure you. “His parents love him so much, allowed him to follow his dreams, and gave him everything he ever needed.”

As he got to meet Taemoo and his adoptive parents, he can reassure you now.

“They are adorable people,” he adds. “And they’ve been taking good care of our Sunny.”

Jungkook spent most of his life wondering if good people adopted his son, and he would have hated himself if it wasn’t the case. But when he got to meet Taemoo’s parents, he saw how great they were. And above anything, he saw how great they raised him. Taemoo is a wonderful kid with a wonderful soul.

Hearing those words definitely reassures you. It comforts you that Sunny has been doing well and landed in a loving family. At the end of the day, that’s all you ever wanted for your baby.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

The firefighter smiles while holding you a bit tighter. For a little while, you stay like this without saying a word. Reuniting with Jungkook is the best thing that happens in the midst of all the chaos your life has become. It also allows you to think about something else other than the excruciating pain you constantly feel.  

A nurse enters your room while you’re reading one of the many books you’ve had left to read for the past years.

“There is a young man who says he’s your son. Should I let him in?”

You frown in confusion, momentarily wondering if your son has been mistaken for someone else. Nevertheless, you nod.

“Yes, please,” you say, placing your book aside and grabbing your cane to keep it close, just in case.

A soft knock sounds at the door before it opens, revealing a tall, nervous teenager. Your heart stops as you take in his face. It isn’t Jeong—but your oldest son.

As Jungkook described him a week ago, Taemoo definitely looks like the two of you. Nevertheless, his resemblance with his biological father is surprising. There is absolutely no doubt that he is Jungkook’s son. You understand now his mother’s reaction when she saw the firefighter.

“Hello,” he says, his voice tentative, holding a bouquet of bright sunflowers.

His hands tremble slightly as he steps inside. As you look a bit more at him, you can’t help but notice that he’s dressed thoughtfully, a gesture that tugs at your heart.  

This moment feels absolutely unreal. Merely days ago you found out about his name, and today he’s standing in front of you.

“I am Taemoo,” he continues.

As you look at this not-so-little man, you wonder what you could say to him, but you have no clue.

“Hello Taemoo,” you manage, your voice soft and unsteady. “Come in,” you add.

Taemoo—or Sunny as you’ve been affectingly calling him for the past sixteen years—comes closer with some hesitation. He’s clutching the flowers like a shield. Despite the nerves, there’s a quiet strength about him.

“I don’t have much to offer, but I have water, cookies, biscuits, and hot chocolate. Would you want something?” you propose.

“No, thanks,” he gives you a little smile.

“Please take a seat,” you offer while showing the chair next to yours.

For a little moment, he hesitates before sitting next to you. Your heart is hammering in your chest, ready to burst any second. The little man you gave birth to sixteen years ago is now standing before you. The same boy you gave up for adoption merely three days after his birth.

“Sorry, I didn’t properly introduce myself,” he mumbles.

As much as you want to tell him that he doesn’t need to, you need to hear him say it out loud.

“I am Taemoo, your son,” he says.

“Hello, Taemoo,” you gently say. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”

Tears start running down your face as you look at him. Sixteen years ago, you were holding him in your arms while your heart was completely ripped out. You were looking down at him knowing you’d have to say goodbye.

“I… I brought you these,” he shows the bouquet in his hands.

Your chest tightens as you take the flowers. “Thank you,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “They’re beautiful—sunflowers are my favorite.”

“I know,” he murmurs, glancing at the floor. “Mr. Jeon told me.”

Your heart melts; this boy definitely seems to have a big heart. More silent tears run down your face while you look down again at the flowers.

“I have to ask,” you say after a little while. “How did you find me?”

You try to clean your face to compose yourself.

“I was in the hospital for a checkup, and I noticed Mr. Jeon at the front desk asking about you,” he explains. “I also know your name because he gave it to me when we met,” he adds.

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. It kind of warms your heart that Jungkook talked about you to Taemoo, but it aches your heart that this is how he got to meet you. You would have largely preferred you had organized this reunion.

“I’m glad you came.”

Your firstborn shifts nervously in his chair. “I wasn’t sure if I should,” he admits. “I didn’t know if you ever wanted to see me.”

It breaks your heart to hear those words as you picture him worried to come. There’s no doubt that it’s brave of him to come here. He could have stumbled upon a mother who didn’t want to see him; he was for sure aware of it.

“Taemoo,” you start saying. “You have every right to be here,” your voice slightly trembles. “I’ve spent the last sixteen years wondering how it’d be to see you again.”

But you also wondered if it was a good idea to even look for him. You never wanted to shake his world up, especially after giving him up for adoption.

“I don’t want to bother you,” he says. “I just…” he’s quite hesitating to continue his sentence, and you nod, silently encouraging him to proceed with what he has in mind. “I just needed to see you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” you reassure him instantly.

For a moment, silence falls between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. You don’t add anything else as you let him take the lead. He’s the one who was brave enough to come so you want him to say everything his heart desires.

“I have questions,” he finally speaks. “About why. Why gave me up for adoption.”

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat growing.

“Jungkook never told you why?” you question.

“Yes, he did but he never spoke on your behalf. He only gave his reasons.”

This is the Jungkook that you know, and it is very fond of him.

“I couldn’t be a mother,” your voice trembles. “I desired nothing more than to be a mother for you, but I couldn’t give you what you needed. I wanted you to have a life I couldn’t give you at the time.”

It’s hard to tell him why you abandoned him. You’re not even sure he can understand your reasons.

“I was just a girl when I had you; I was your age. I was so scared, but I thought only about your future. You deserved to have a good life, to have parents who would give you everything you needed. In my mind, the best thing for you was to give you up for adoption.”

There’s also the part where you cheated on your boyfriend, but that’s something he doesn’t need to know.

His expression is unreadable, but you notice his hands unclenching. This might be a good sign.

“Did you regret it?” his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Every single day,” you confess. You’re unable to stop the tears now. “The day I handed you over was the hardest day of my life. I’ve spent the last sixteen years wondering what you’ve become, but I was too afraid to find you,” you feel extremely vulnerable in front of your son. “I thought you’d hate me.”

Taemoo looks away, staring at the floor while he processes your words. It isn’t easy for him to be here and to know the truth. Jungkook said the same time. He was too young to be a father; he was a total idiot back then, and he tried to give his son the best life he could.

“I don’t hate you,” he softly says, and relief washes over you. “I never hated you because I had a good life, but I’ve spent my whole life wondering if I would have had as well a good life with my biological parents.”

You’re convinced it wouldn’t have been the case.

“Thanks for answering my questions,” he gently says.

Another silence settles between you, but less tense this time.

“Mr. Jeon…” he hesitantly says. “He told me you like books,” he says, changing the subject.

At this stage, you’re wondering what Jungkook hasn’t said about you. First, there are the flowers; now, it’s the books.

“What are you reading?”

You’re grateful he swifts the topic of conversation. It was heavy to be talking to him about your painful past. Smiling, you reach for the book on the bed, and show it to Taemoo.  

“It’s one of the books I bought years ago but never read,” he takes the book to look at it.

“I like books too,” he admits while looking at the book. “Mostly history, and fantasy too.”

Your heart warms as he gives you a small glimpse into his life.

“I’d love to know what you’re reading,” you say. “Maybe you could recommend me something?” you’re hesitant.

“Sure,” he straightaway answers. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time,” you murmur while holding onto those words like a lifeline.

Taemoo gives you a small smile. Slowly, you reach for his hand, and for a brief moment, he freezes, then lets you hold it.

“Thanks, Taemoo,” your voice is filled with emotions.

He nods with still that small smile on his face. “If you don’t mind, we could exchange numbers?” he asks with hesitation.

“Yes, of course,” you smile at him, giving his hand a small squeeze.

Your phone is on the other side of the bed, so you slowly try to get up with your glamorous cane. Taemoo stands up without any second thoughts to help you out. He’s already as tall as Jungkook; you don’t doubt he’ll be taller than him. You walk very slowly, and your son doesn’t leave your side in case you need him.

Once you’ve reached your phone, you unlock it to give it to him. “You can type your number and save it,” you say.

Taemoo freezes when he notices your background. There are three kids, and he realizes how much they resemble him. Even though he looks a lot like Jungkook, he also takes a lot after you.

“Are those my siblings?” he asks when he glances at you.

“Yes,” you answer. “I had three other kids years after you.”

“They look adorable,” he tells you before proceeding to save his number on your phone.

He calls himself, so he can also have your number. After that, he helps you to sit again on the chair before leaving the room.  The room suddenly feels empty as Taemoo leaves you alone with the flowers and the overwhelming realization that your son—the boy you thought you’d lost forever—is finally back in your life.

Today, Jungkook took a day off because he’s going out with you.

It’s not really a date —at least, that's what you’re both trying to convince yourselves. It’s been like a week that you’re out of the hospital, and he promised he’d take you on a car ride. Even though you walk better than you did some days ago, you’re still very slow. However, it doesn’t change the fact that you want to go out a bit.

For the past few days, you’ve both spent a lot of time together. It’s been great to be around you again. Things are very different now because you’re both grown-ups with kids, and there’s a lifetime that happened since you last saw each other. But he still feels the same around you. He still has that massive crush on you.

Honestly, he thought that with time, it’d fade away, but he was wrong. He understood it the second he pulled you out of that car. Being around you brings him peace. He feels like he doesn’t have to play a role; he simply can be himself.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Somewhere,” he quickly eyes you before focusing on the road again.

Sixteen years ago, he knew he could never have you because of the circumstances. It was obvious to him that you loved him back, but it simply wasn’t possible. However, today, things are different. He still has a crush on you, and he will do everything in his power to not let you go.

“You’ll like it,” he smiles at you.

You look at him with suspicion.

“Let’s see,” you mumble.

Since you’ve been discharged from the hospital, Jungkook has been kind of scared to put you back in a car. So, for this day out, he asked you a million times if you’d be okay. You reassured him because it didn’t really frighten you.

Your baby daddy has been thoughtfully thinking about the place he could take you to. There are for sure hundreds of places, but he wants something special. However, above anything else, he wants to distract you.

He has noticed how you sometimes contort with pain. Definitely, you try to hide it but he can see it through your eyes. Most of the time, he feels sorry to see you in that state. It doesn’t look great at all. Nonetheless, he’s been trying to help.

Taemoo has also passed by once or twice at your parents’ place. Jungkook has never been present because he wants you two to get to know each other without him being in the middle. He definitely wishes the three of you to be reunited, but let’s take this step by step. It’s difficult for everyone.

“How has it been going to come back home?” he asks.

“Not easy…” you admit. “The kids struggle to not be staying at my place, even myself.”

Unfortunately, you can’t stay alone since anything can happen and you need help. So you’re staying at your parent’s place. You’re sleeping in your old bedroom that has since been transformed into a kid’s room for your babies. Your old bed is still there, but it doesn’t feel like your actual bed.

“They cry when they have to leave with their father. They really want to stay at my parents’ place with me, but it’s already very crowded.”

Your sister still lives with your parents, she’s only 22; she’s still very young. Well, she refuses to let you call her young because, at 22, you were getting married to Minkyu.

“They understand the situation, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard for them.”

Jungkook nods as he can only imagine how this situation feels for everybody. Hopefully, things will slowly get better, and you’ll be able to recover quickly.

“I don’t like to complain, but it’s already physically hard, so seeing them like that makes it harder,” you admit.

It leaves you wondering if it will be like that until the end of your recovery.

“Then, it’s a good thing I take you out for a little bit today,” he smiles, trying to change the conversation.

“It is,” you smile at him.

It’s warming your heart that he has been very present for almost a month. There hasn’t been a day where he didn’t visit you, even if it was for five minutes. You feel lucky to have him during this tough time; he’s been quite a comforting and reassuring presence.

After maybe half an hour, you reach a parking lot from a park located on a high hill. It’s a park you and Jungkook terribly loved. You’d come here towards the end of the pregnancy when you couldn’t sleep.

“So, what do you think?”

“I like this place,” a bright smile grows on your face.

“I know,” he says.

This is definitely very thoughtful of him.

Jungkook leaves the car to help you get out of it. As you think you are going to walk for a bit, the man just holds you in his arms, one of his arms under your back, and the other under your legs. You instantly wrap your hands around his neck. Your faces are pretty close, and all thoughts are shut down by the irresistible desire to kiss him.

“Since there’s a lot to walk before reaching our spot, it’s better if I bring you there,” he confesses.

“Always trying to play the superhero,” you mumble.

“Eeh, I’m not,” he straight away answers. “I’m just trying to make your life easier.”

You roll your eyes while giggling.

“I can let you walk if you prefer but don’t blame it on me afterward,” he says while slowly pretending to put you down.

“Okay, okay,” you retreat in defeat. “Take me there.”

A smile grows on his face before he starts walking in the direction of your spot. It’s a bench where you have the perfect view of the city. At night, it’s wonderful as the buildings are lightening up. You spent many nights here sixteen years ago with your head on his shoulder, and your hand on your belly. Sunny would kick quite a lot during those moments, and Jungkook’s hand would rest on your bump to feel his son.

You were young and stupid, but definitely in love at that moment. A month before your son’s birth, you shared a passionate kiss on that bench. It was a highly desired one. You shared other kisses afterward but they never felt like that first one.

Surprisingly, when you reach the famous bench, nobody is sitting there. Usually, back in the day, that bench was always occupied during the day, only being empty at night.

“It almost feels like you booked the bench,” you chuckle.

“I could of,” he answers. “But I don’t have the means.”

Jungkook sits you down on the bench before taking a seat next to you. Gently, he grabs your legs to place them on top of his. He’s aware of how painful it can be for you to have your knees bent. At least like that, they are almost flat.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” your eyes look at the handsome firefighter instead of the pretty view.

The man only offers you a gentle smile, and the two of you now look at the city stretching before your eyes. It is very different than it was sixteen years ago. The city has grown bigger, some buildings were replaced by others or some even were destroyed. Everything is different while still being the same. Like how it feels to be around Jungkook.  

“Can I ask you a question?” Jungkook breaks the silence between you.

Your eyes look back at him, and his expression is unreadable.

“Sure,” you nod.

“Would you have given us a shot if you hadn’t gotten pregnant?” he asks with some sort of hesitation.

The questions catches you by surprise as it is the last thing you thought he’d ever ask.

“To be honest, I don’t know,” you say. “I was feeling so guilty about what I did to Minho, I felt stupid, and I was avoiding you.”

Well, he felt that.

“I avoided you because I really adored what happened with you,” you say. “You were really good in bed,” he smiles at your words. “But I looked at you differently because I got pregnant.”

Sixteen years ago, you never had a conversation about your feelings for him. But it definitely looks like you’re having it now.

“You were by my side every second. You’d cook whatever I was craving, you’d be at every appointment, you’d hold me when I cried, you’d do anything when I was in pain, and you’d bring me here when I couldn’t sleep.”

Your heart is beating fast as you’re about to pronounce the next words.

“I fell in love with that Jungkook,” the firefighter’s heart is also hammering in his chest. “Not with the jerk who’d flirt with me.”

His cheeks are getting red with shyness. After all these years, and even though he knew his feelings were reciprocated, he feels like a teenager falling in love for the first time.

“We were two when we conceived Sunny, so I naturally had to get my shit together and be by your side and help you as much as I could,” he says. “I was for sure a jerk back then, but I’d always assume the consequences of my actions.”

His heart is hammering faster as he takes his courage to speak out loud about how he has been feeling about you. 

“I also had a crush on you so I also saw that as a way to spend more time with you,” now you’re the one blushing.

Anyone observing this scene from outside would instantly get how smitten you are. The person would even bet that you’re together.

“Do you still have a crush on me?” you question.

You’re way too curious, but you definitely want to know because damn, you’d kiss that man right now.

Jungkook gets closer to your face, his hands moving to your thighs to caress them. Not in a sensual way.

“What would happen if I say yes?” he whispers when his face is extremely close to yours.

“You’ll have to find out,” you teasingly say.

His eyes move from your eyes to your lips as he desires nothing but the same as you. To kiss you.    

“Yes,” he says without any hesitation. “I still have a crush on you.”

You bite your lower lip before breaking the small space between you to fervently kiss him. Having his lips finally against yours feels like a relief, almost as if you’ve been waiting sixteen years to feel them again.

The kiss is shy at first as if you’re both scared but it slowly turns into a desperate and fervent one. One of his hands goes to the back of your neck while the other remains on your thigh. Your hands cup his face while you intensely kiss each other. 

This feels like heaven for you two. You open your mouth, giving him free access to it. His tongue doesn’t hesitate one second to find yours. Gently, your tongues meet and it feels wonderful. Inside of your lower belly, thousands of butterflies are freed. Never have you thought that this would happen again although you’ve thought about it since reuniting with him.

When you’re both out of breath, you break the kiss and rest your forehead against his. For a moment, you simply look at each other while you catch your breath. Jungkook’s fingers softly caress your face, and you close your eyes to savor this moment. 

“I’ve dreamed of this since I found you again,” he admits.

Jungkook presses once more his mouth against yours. A soft moan leaves his mouth when your lips meet. He wants to keep doing this forever. He teasingly bites your lower lip which causes a moan to escape your mouth. A devious smirk appears on his face but he gets back to kissing you fervently.

Before the kiss takes a very dirty turn, you break it. “It isn’t the appropriate place for that,” you whisper.

He giggles as he realizes he was ready to take it to the next level in a public place. The firefighter presses a gentle kiss on your lips before you resume to admire the view.

After a couple of hours, he takes you back to your parents’ house. Your mind is filled with euphoria from the kisses you shared earlier, and you can’t help but smile every time you think about it. Kissing Jungkook still feels the same. It still tastes like heaven.  

When you’re home, you notice nobody’s here which is a bit weird, especially since you warned your parents you’ll take a shower today. Maybe they went for a walk since you were with Jungkook.

“Would you mind staying a bit?” you ask. “I need to take a shower, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable alone.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he says.

Jungkook assists you until you reach the bathroom and grabs underwear, a bra, pants, and a shirt from your bedroom.

“You’re sure you’ll be able to be by yourself?” he asks with concern.

“I have a stool and everything I need has been placed at the stool level,” you explain. “So don’t worry.”

Jungkook can’t help but feel worried. Even if it’d be weird to be in the bathroom with you, he’d feel reassured.

“If I need anything, I’ll call you,” you add.

There’s not much he can do, except to leave you alone.

“Okay,” he presses a gentle kiss on your lips before leaving.

You sit on the stool to get undressed. To remove your shirt and bra, it’s quite easy, but to take off your pants and panties, it’s a whole other story. Your mother has been helping you a lot with the shower part, and you’ve been feeling like a five-year-old who can’t do much by herself.

The last two showers, you’ve been able to do everything by yourself, and you’ve been very proud of yourself. However, right now, you’re struggling a lot. It’s frustrating you beyond comprehension, but you remind yourself that you need to calm down otherwise, it’ll only be worse.

After a little while, you simply resign and call for Jungkook. He arrives in a rush, and his heart breaks a little when he sees your defeated face.

“Struggling?” he asks when he notices your pants stuck at your knees level.

“I can’t push them further than that,” you pout.

He walks in your direction, kneeling before you. “Let me help you.”

His hands carefully push your pants down and throw them onto the floor. Then, before even touching your panties, his eyes look up at you, asking for your consent. Even though you called him for help, he wouldn’t want to cross any line. Consent is important, after all.

You simply nod, you don’t have much of a choice here. His fingers brush against the skin of your hips, causing goosebumps all over your body. Last time he touched you there was the day you conceived Taemoo, sixteen years ago. Your eyes are frozen on him.

Jungkook grabs the hem of your panties to push them down your legs, his fingers brushing against your hot skin. You’re now fully naked in front of him, and it feels incredibly weird although he already saw you like this. But at the same time, it feels reassuring to have him here with you.

“Do you want me to help you wash? Or would you be fine now?” he asks while standing up.

“Help me please,” you almost beg. “Not sure I’ll be able to wash if I can’t even remove my clothes,” you laugh a bit.

You try not to cry at this whole situation. It’s better to laugh at it than cry.

“Okay,” he turns the water on. “You’re going to wash your hair?”

“No, no,” you answer. “Just my body.”

The man in front of you nods and hands you the showerhead.

“Let me know when it is too hot,” he tells you.

You’re holding the showerhead with one hand while the other is below to check the water temperature. In the meantime, Jungkook removes his socks in order for him to get inside the shower.

Once done, his eyes look at you with admiration. For almost a month, you’ve been going through hell with everything that has been going on. You’ve been handling things like a champion even though it’s sometimes very clear you’re suffering terribly. He has nothing but admiration for you.

His heart swells with happiness because, in the midst of all that, you chose to let him be by your side. He even got to kiss you.

“It’s good now,” you tell him with a smile.  

Jungkook grabs the showerhead to run it over your body. He carefully executes the task while being extremely focused on not forgetting any body parts of yours.

“With my mum, we always do the intimate parts at the end,” you inform him.

“No problem,” he answers.

Once your body has been fully covered in water, he seizes the shower gel.

“Do you want to do it?” he asks with the gel in his hands.

Usually, with your mum, you do it, but with Jungkook, you’ll gladly let him do it. You really want to feel his fingers touch your body. 

“Could you please do it?” he nods.

Jungkook understands that you simply want to feel his touch, and he won’t complain as he desires nothing but to touch your soft skin.

There is nothing sexual about this moment. The two of you would even say that it’s a very intimate moment, even more intimate than sex.

The man covers your entire body with soap before holding back the showerhead to clean you. Once done, you stand up so you can clean your last body parts, which are your vagina and ass. This time around, you want to do it yourself as you feel like it could take a naughty turn if he touches you down there.

Jungkook leaves the shower. “Where are the towels?”

“In the storage cabinet below the sink,” you inform him.

Seconds later, when you cut the water, he wraps you in the towel before you sit back again on the stool.

“Thanks for your help,” you say.

As you slowly wake up, you feel a warm presence behind you which is something not normal. Since you’ve been back from the hospital, you’ve been sleeping alone in your old bed.

Then, you start remembering what happened yesterday. After the shower, your parents arrived and were very delighted to see Jungkook. A bit later, your sister came from work. Your parents naturally invited him to stay for dinner.

Once dinner was over, you practically begged him to stay the night. You then went to your room, and watched “Enola Holmes 2”, but you instantly fell asleep with your body pressed against his, your head against his chest.  His heartbeat was the little melody that rocked you to sleep.

Your eyes adjust to the light in which the room is immersed. You turn around to see Jungkook sleeping like a baby, and he looks absolutely adorable.

In this quite big bed, it seems like he’s so far away from you as he isn’t close to you. There’s a distance between the two of you that makes you smile; you know he purposely put that distance. He respects you way too much, and he wouldn’t do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. 

You turn again before closing your eyes to remember what happened yesterday. It was an intense day, but intense in a good way. As you remember the kisses you shared, you run your fingers over your lips. He still kisses like a god.  

Yesterday, you felt so much alive. You didn’t feel that way for already a couple of years. Hopefully, this is a feeling that’ll stay longer. You don’t want it to fade away so soon.   

Suddenly, the bed moves behind you. A big hand carefully wraps around your waist while a mouth presses a gentle kiss on your shoulder, and a body snuggles up against yours. Instantly, your eyes close to savor this precise moment. 

Both of you snuggle together for a little while, just enjoying the closeness of your bodies together. Waking up with someone and with his arms wrapped around you is something you haven’t experienced in a while. The last time it happened was when you were still married to Minkyu.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he whispers with his hoarse morning voice before pressing a sweet kiss on your neck. 

Goosebumps rise all over your skin because this is a beautiful way to wake up. Damn, you wouldn’t mind waking up every day to this.

Jungkook feels your shivers beneath his hand, a smirk growing on his face. It feels like a victory to have already made you feel this good so early in the morning.  

“Morning, Jungkook,” you whisper. 

Naturally, your back arches, pushing your ass back to meet his crotch which makes him groan against your skin. Your cheeks instantly turn red and you push your ass away from his intimate parts.

“Sorry,” you say.

Jungkook also feels a bit embarrassed that his little friend down there is already all turned on. But what can he say, he spent the night with the girl of his dreams.

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” he whispers. “I’m already all turned on.”

Since you’re still flustered, you don’t dare to turn to look at him. He’s also grateful for that; he would hide his face in the pillow if you ever look at him.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you say. “I mean, it’s normal.”

“I know, but it’s awkward for both of us,” he answers.

For a moment, you don’t say anything as you try to find your words.

“I’m actually flattered,” you break the silence. “Wasn’t expecting to turn someone on this early in the morning.”

Jungkook gets closer to you once more, his hard member pressing against your ass through his underwear. That feeling alone causes your walls to clench around emptiness. You also bite your lower lip to repress any moan that might escape your mouth. You’re at your parents’ house, anyone could hear you.

His arms wrap around your waist once more before he presses another kiss on your neck. A very soft moan manages to escape, causing Jungkook to feel some kind of pride. His fingers slip beneath your shirt to caress every part of your body with his cold fingers.

Your back arches at the sensation while one of your hands goes to his head, your fingers running through his hair. Your other hand goes to your mouth to muffle the sounds of your moans. You don’t know exactly what time it is, so you’re not sure if there’s somebody at the house. To be safe, it’s better not to moan like a mess.

Then, his fingers move down on your body, pushing your pajamas’ pants and underwear together. The cold air that brushes against your core makes you grow wetter. Thank god you have your hand in your mouth because there’s no doubt this would have made you moan.

His fingers slowly get closer and closer to your bundle of nerves. By the time his fingers reach your clit, you’re already completely soaked. 

“Someone else is already all turned on,” he whispers in your ear before licking and nibbling it. “Tell me what you want, sunshine.” 

The simple fact that he asks what you want is a big turn-on. Men tend to forget that during an intimate moment, it isn’t all about themselves and their pleasure. It’s about two people trying to give and have pleasure.

Your back arches a bit more, rubbing your ass more against his semi-hard cock. A deep growl echoes against your ear. Your mind is going completely crazy. There’s one thing you desperately crave right now: him inside you.

“You,” is actually the first word that crosses your mind. “You inside me with your hand on my throat,” you clarify. 

Well, the only time you had sex with Jungkook, it was pretty wild. You both discovered how much you adored having his fingers tightly around your neck. It gave a totally other dimension to the sex. It was even more intense, and you loved it.

“You’re sure?” he still asks to be sure.

He doesn’t want to cause any more pain. 

“Absolutely,” you reassure him.

Your eyes close when his free hand finds its way to your neck, his wonderful and delicate tattooed fingers wrapping around your throat. This feels wonderful, and it gets you wetter.

As you feel a moan ready to leave your mouth, you sink your teeth into your lower lip. There’s no way you’re going to muffle all your moans. This is already too wild for you, and you know it’s going to get even wilder.

“I’d give anything to see the way you look with my hand around that pretty neck of yours, sunshine” he whispers in the shell of your ear, his deep voice emphasizing the word ‘sunshine’. 

With your eyes closed, you can perfectly picture the way his hand fits on you. Jungkook can imagine it too, causing chills to run through his skin. 

While his hand caresses your neck, the other one does wonders to your clit. The torture is exquisite, nothing feels as good as having his hands on you. His hand works harder on your core to make you wetter. The man is already desperate to give you what you want. Him inside you. 

Once he feels you’re wet enough, his fingers leave your pussy alone to pull your leg up a bit, this way will be easier for him to push his cock inside you. Quite rapidly, he takes off his underwear.

“At any time, let me know if I hurt you, okay?” he whispers with evident concern.

“Don’t worry, Kook,” you say.  

His lips pepper the back of your neck with kisses. Your hand goes behind to stroke his cock a bit before rubbing it for a little while against your soaked core. 

“Shit, yn,” he groans against your skin. 

You bite your lower lip because, damn, it’s fucking hot to wake up to this.

As you feel him growing harder in your hand, you decide to push his length into your heated core. Your pussy sucks him all in, his head stretching you open as he goes further inside you.

“You always feel amazing,” he hisses once he bottoms up.

Small and barely audible moans and whimpers leave the two of you as you both enjoy feeling your bodies connected. Jungkook doesn’t move for a few seconds, giving your body time to adjust to him.

It’s been a while since you last had sex together, and Jungkook’s cock tends to be quite big. That was for sure something you’d never forget. How could you? If you compare to all the dicks you experience, he’d be the biggest.

But it isn’t the kind of big that makes it painful. It’s actually the opposite. You’d say that his dick is simply perfect.

“Move, Kook,” you give him a small slap on his ass to urge him. 

You need him, in ways you can’t even express. 

The man doesn’t need to be told twice before he starts thrusting into you very slowly and deeply with his hand still around your throat. The slick sound of your pussy soaking his cock as well as the creaky bed quickly fills the room. 

Jungkook takes all his time, he isn’t rushing anything because damn, he wants you both to enjoy this moment. His lips stay on your shoulder, pressing soft kisses to avoid moaning. His other hand holds your leg up while he rolls his hips in a way that you absolutely adore. 

The hand on your neck and his dick deep inside you are the perfect combos to make you come in a snap. None of you speak, only enjoying this torrid moment.

The man behind you feels that he’s slowly losing you, that you’re losing yourself further in the pleasure that only he can give you. So, he lightly tightens his hand around your throat to help you reach your orgasm faster. 

“Fuck,” you swear as his fingers wrap tighter around your neck. 

This is more than bliss for you, you could just come right now because of his hand but you don’t want to let go of your orgasm. You want to let it grow immensely until it becomes too overwhelming for you. You want this orgasm to be like an explosion of fireworks inside you. 

“You take me so well,” he whispers before bringing your face closer to his to press his lips against yours. Your walls clench around him causing his cock to twitch inside you. A guttural groan leaves his pretty lips, a groan that you happily swallow.  

Wanting to bring him closer to the edge, you start moving your hips in circles while he keeps thrusting into you at a very slow and torturous pace. His lips leave yours, his eyes close shut, and barely audible moans keep flooding out of his mouth.    

“Keep doing that, yn,” he pants.   

His cock goes deeper inside you, filling you up fully and hitting all the right spots which causes the pleasure to grow stronger within you. Your moans are harder to suppress, it feels good to be railed by Jungkook this early in the morning. Morning sex is honestly one of the best types of sex.

He groans deeply against your ear, your orgasm building stronger and stronger. You know that in a matter of seconds, you’ll be coming undone, and Jungkook senses it too. Your hips never stop moving in tandem with his but as you get closer to your high, your walls squeeze him harder. 

As he gets lost in the euphoria of the moment, he starts thrusting more harshly. Both of you are chasing your own orgasm while bringing the other closer to the edge. It doesn’t take you too much time to be fiercely hit by that overwhelming wave of pleasure, making you come undone around his massive cock. 

“Jungkook, fuck!” you cry with ecstasy, your hips stopping completely to move but the man behind you never stops moving. 

“Can I come inside?” you simply nod, barely able to make a proper sentence in the middle of this euphoric state.   

Both his hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly as he releases his thick load inside you. A lewd moan escapes your mouth when he pumps his hot cum inside you, pushing it as deep as possible inside you. 

For a little while, both of you stay in this position, his hands still holding you tight against him while his cock remains inside you. None of you wants to break this moment but you have to since you’ll need to leave the bed.  

Very slowly, you remove yourself from his cock to stand up from the bed. “Can I ask you to help me put on my underwear and pants?” you ask.

Without hesitation, Jungkook stands up while grabbing your clothes. As yesterday, he kneels before you to dress you. A smile spreads across your face as you look down at him. This man is, without any doubt, the kind of man you want to have in your life. He’s been nothing but a sweetheart with you.

“Thanks a lot, Jk,” you say once fully dressed.

The man carefully spreads your legs to situate himself between them.

“No problem, sunshine,” he presses a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Also, I’d like to mention that I take the pill,” you mention with a silly smile on your face. “So we won’t have any other surprise kid.”

Jungkook smiles and kisses you once more.

“I’m glad to know that,” he whispers against your lips.

Still fully naked, he stands up to assist you to do the same. Once you’re straightened up, you take the glamorous cane. At the same time, Jungkook puts his clothes back on because there’s no way he’s going to leave this bedroom naked. It’d be way too embarrassing.

This impressive man helps you go to the bathroom and, then, to the kitchen. At first, it seems like there’s only the two of you since you don’t hear any noise. However, to your surprise, when you reach the kitchen, you find your sister sitting at the table and eating breakfast.

“Good morning,” you say with evident joy.

“Only good morning to you,” she snaps back.

You frown with confusion. Your sister looks you dead in the eyes, totally ignoring Jungkook’s presence in the same room.

“I really didn’t need to know how you two conceived your first kid,” she explains.

Both you and Jungkook open your eyes wide; you weren’t expecting that at all. But there were chances that someone would have heard you. It’s definitely weird your sister was the one. You wouldn’t want to hear her having sex with someone.

“Hopefully, this time around, there won’t be any other kid,” Jungkook manages to say.  

Your sister laughs a bit. “I like this one,” she takes a sip of coffee. “He seems better than the other ones, and he’s also a lot hotter than them.”

Jungkook starts laughing as he helps you to take a seat.

“She’s funny,” he whispers to your ear.

“Don’t be silly,” you tell your sister. “And please, go find a guy so you don’t drool over mine.”

Although you haven’t defined your relationship for now, he’s flattered you consider him as ‘your guy’.

“How can I compete with a firefighter?” she teases. “Anyone will feel boring next to Jungkook,” she adds.

“If you want, I can introduce you to my colleagues,” he suggests.

“Don’t encourage her in her nonsense,” you tell him.

“Yes, please,” she says with enthusiasm.

You roll your eyes. She’s unbelievable and definitely very crazy, but that’s maybe why you love her so damn much.  

After that, together with Jungkook, you prepare breakfast while speaking with your sister. She leaves a couple of minutes later because she needs to meet with her best friend downtown. And right after her, Jungkook leaves you alone in your parents’ house which breaks your heart. However, you don’t stay very long by yourself as your kids come to visit you with their father.

Three weeks later

You and Jungkook are sitting at a table in a fancy restaurant. Your heart is beating fast with nervousness.

“Everything is going to be fine,” he tries to reassure you while resting his hand on top of yours.

“Don’t know,” you mumble.

Today, you’ve organized a dinner with Jungkook and Taemoo; your first time as a family. It’s weird to even think about it, but Taemoo really wanted to spend some time with you, together. Since he proposed this, you’ve been feeling very nervous. You’re a bit scared of how things will go when you’re finally the three of you together.

“There’s no reason for this to not go well,” he answers.

Before you can even answer, Taemoo joins you with a bright smile on his face. Like the first time you met him, he’s very well dressed.

“Hello,” he says. “I brought you these,” he hands you a tiny bouquet composed of three sunflowers. “It’s one sunflower for each of us.”

Your heart has completely melted now. This kid is so damn thoughtful, just like his biological father. His parents definitely raised him well, and it only reassures you that the decision you made sixteen years ago was the right one.

“Hello, Taemoo,” you say while standing up to hold your son in your arms. “Thanks a lot.”

Your firstborn wraps his arms around yours. This is a heartfelt moment; being able to hug him fills your heart with so much love. It feels like holding Jiwoo even though you didn’t raise Taemoo. Unfortunately, you can’t hold him for a long moment due to your wonderful knees. So he then greets Jungkook before taking a seat in the empty chair.

“Thanks for accepting this,” those are his first words.

Although he seems very happy and relaxed, you notice he’s a bit stressed.

“After seeing you separately, I really wanted to spend a bit of time with the two of you,” he starts saying. “Not sure how this will evolve in the future, but I’d like to sometimes organize this kind of diner.”

For the past few weeks, your life has drastically changed, and honestly, sometimes, you feel like it’s too much. However, having Jungkook and Sunny back in your life is what you consider to be a blessing. In all this chaos, you found two deeply important people that you left sixteen years ago.

The sixteen-year-old version of you was devasted to part ways from them two, thinking that you’ll never see them again. If she could see this today, the heartbreak would have been less painful. But that version of you is beyond happy today to see the three of you sitting at the same table.

This car accident destroyed your knees and stomach, but it has brought you Jungkook and Sunny. All of this would not be happening without this accident.

You also can’t wait to see your three other little munchkins with the man you love and their older sibling. Undoubtedly, that day will be the most wonderful day of your life. Now, you feel like you can finally truly be happy. You now have all the people you need to be happy.    

[kurooh]

☆ THAT’S BED CHEM ! — MHA

⊹₊˚. featuring midoriya izuku, bakugo katsuki, kirishima eijirou, kaminari denki, & takami keigo showing you their habits in bed.

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, squirting, dirty talk, handjobs, fingering, overstimulation, facesitting, mirror sex, cunnilingus, riding, creampies, rough-ish sex, not entirely proofread.

MIDORIYA IZUKU + begging

izuku’s easy—it doesn’t take much to get him keyed up, especially when it comes to you. there’d been a shift in the air that morning, and yet he still headed to work, where he helped to apprehend villains alongside other heroes. he only pushed himself to clean up more on his own so he could stop popping so many random boners. even thinking about all might wouldn’t make him go soft.

so, when you decided to surprise him during your lunch break with a hot bag of his favorite takeout, he shut the office door behind you and immediately pulled you into a kiss. izuku swears it isn’t his fault—his dick is partially to blame—and before you know it, you’re perched on the edge of his desk with your hands wrapped around his cock and two thick fingers buried deep inside you.

“uh huh, that’s perfect,” izuku swallows a loud moan and chews on his lower lip, doing his best to keep quiet despite the very public predicament you’re both in. “mmngh, squeeze me a little tighter—yeah, baby.”

a subtle adjustment in your grip and placement of your fingers makes all the difference, and izuku’s lips round around a moan. it’s loud, even when it’s only halfway out of his mouth—you move fast, pressing a hand to his cheek as you kiss him hard.

he shifts, back arching off of the rolling chair with a squeak! he hates having to be quiet, especially when he’s pulling apart at the seams like this. heady, slippery squelches fill the spaces between your bodies where the moans can’t; glossy slick spills onto the papers beneath your ass as izuku maintains a sloppy rhythm, doing his best to keep you satisfied.

“w-we can’t make any noise, ‘zuku. we’re in your office, remember?”

a gooey string of saliva connects your lips to his when you pull away, and izuku finds himself going cross-eyed as he follows it to your mouth. you’re talking to him, breathily whispering something that he should probably listen to, but he’s too caught up in the way your thumb hits the sweet spot on the underside of his cock with every upward motion of your fist. oh, and then there’s the way he can taste the smeared lip gloss at the corners of his mouth in conjunction with the minty gum you were just chewing.

your sweetness turns sour with a light but deliberate slap to his freckled cheek, and it certainly gets his attention. izuku’s looking at you with wide green eyes, shocked not by the roughness but by how much he wants you to do it again.

“i’m sorry,” you say, grinding your hips on his fingers, “izu, are you hearing me? as much as i want you right now, i don’t want you to get fired and blacklisted—”

the word blacklisted bounces around in his head, but at no point does it actually land. “i jus’ wanna make you cum,” he says, feeling his cheek grow hotter under your palm, “i need to—ugh, it’s all that matters to me right now.”

izuku says it with enough fervor to catch you off guard, but it’s his fingers that really make the small speech on your tongue disintegrate. thick and strong, both digits pump into you without missing a beat—you inhale, feeling like the air’s escaping your lungs, and he pushes deeper, until he strikes gold.

“izuku!” you’re the one getting loud now, but with the way he’s hitting your sweet spot like a bullseye, it can’t be helped. “i don’t wanna get it all over your desk . . wait, the papers—right there, ohmygod.”

hearts swell in his pupils as he over-analyzes your reactions. your fist on his cock is much slower now, because of the major distractions, but it doesn’t matter, not when he could cum just from seeing you like this. your nice blouse is a little disheveled, but that’s nothing compared to the shredded pantyhose and soaked underwear he hastily tugged to the side.

had you not insisted on making him feel good too, izuku would’ve put you on your hands and knees on his desk and had his way with you, with the skirt still on. “let me make you cum first, baby. g-god, i wanna watch you fall apart on my fingers.”

you nod, biting down onto your fist. exhilarating euphoria is hurtling at you fast, and everything fizzles into static when it finally hits you, knocking the world off its axis. izuku’s fingers slow as he watches you ride the high, pussy squeezing him too tightly to pull out or away.

a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead catches the light once you come back to yourself, mind hazy with insatiable desire. izuku bites back both a groan and a whimper when you slide off the desk, leaving a glistening trail of cum shining on the wood. “what’re you gonna do to me?” he asks, feeling himself throb when you seat yourself on his bare lap, “‘m sorry, but i won’t last long en—”

in lieu of a verbal response, both of your hands envelop his cock and start to move smoothly. up and down, gently twisting from side to side—izuku’s head drops back, hanging off the edge of the chair. a litany of moans flows out of his mouth, and your eyes follow the bob of his adam’s apple in his throat.

“oh, you have no idea how good you look right now, ‘zuku. i’ve never seen someone look this perfect just from a little—”

“keep talking,” izuku suddenly gasps, and you can feel his cock thickening in your hands, “tell me everything. whatever it is, don’t stop.”

he’s gotten so desperate it’s cute. like always, it never takes too long to get him like this, all hot and heavy and vocal. izuku might be shy sometimes, but even so, he’ll always tell you what he wants and how he wants it.

“yeah, you’re doing so good. i love to sit here and just take care of you, my sweet boy. god, it’s such a treat to love you.”

“oh fuck,” izuku’s chest heaves as it works to breathe, and his body abruptly straightens, allowing the viridescent green of his eyes to meet your own. “tell me you’re mine, baby,” he begs, voice breaking like he’s on the verge of sobbing, “p-please, i can’t get there without it—”

“you know i’m all yours, izuku. you’re all i want.”

with that, he cums hard, letting out a series of whiny moans of your name and desperate gasps for breath that are only silenced when you press a cum-stained hand over his mouth. between you, his cock is still shooting white ribbons of cum, all over his undershirt and onto the front of your blouse. you only notice the mess when he tugs his cock back and his eyes widen at the sight, a mix of guilt and arousal seeping into his expression.

“don’t touch it,” he catches your hands at the last second before you can investigate and get more on the fabric, “kick my pants over here, there’s a napkin you can—shit.”

izuku just watches in awe, jaw dropped, as you tilt your head down and lick the cum off of your skin, all while looking directly into his eyes. as much as it embarrasses him and makes him want to avert his eyes, he can’t—you’ve got him under some kind of spell, and he’s definitely going to cum again just from seeing this. wait, did something more leak out of his cock just now?

“gimme a kiss,” he sighs, closing his eyes as he tastes himself on your tongue. it’s bittersweet, mixed with the mint gum from earlier, and he pulls you into a hug, the cold takeout forgotten on the other side of the desk.

BAKUGO KATSUKI + torturing you

he’s generous—but only if you tell him exactly what you want, and in excruciating detail, much to your impatience and embarrassment.

“i’d keep that attitude problem in check if i were you,” katsuki smirks, seeming proud of himself as he looks at you through the mirror, “i could do this all fuckin’ night, babe.”

an ultra-hot mixture of frustration and humiliation simmers in your cheeks when you push yourself to stare back at him, stubbornly holding your ground. he’ll end up breaking you down, but it can’t hurt to be a brat for a small while—who knows, it might piss him off enough to fuck you like he hates you.

“oh, i could too,” you hiss out in reply, biting back the moan that nearly slips out of you as you feel the head of his cock grazing along your inner thighs, “you’re so greedy, aren’t you? drawing it out like you haven’t been making eyes at me all day.”

“you say that like you weren’t doing the same, if not worse,” katsuki’s tip lightly nudges against your soaked pussy, and he has the audacity to act as though he’s pushing it in, only to pull back less than a second later. “any chance you’ll stop being a fucking brat and use your words instead of grabbing my ass at every turn?”

you scoff, but the sound of disdain fizzles into a gasping breath, and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. looking into the mirror, you see his chin tilted downward as he teases you, each movement more agonizing than what came before. “yeah, you just like being annoying, don’t you? lose the sass or i’ll fuck it out of you.”

“really? you’re not just saying that to sound all dominant?” at your sarcasm, his crimson eyes dart from his hands to your face. he just stares at your reflection crossly, half-turned on and half-pissed that your snark is getting to him. “not sure what to say, huh? if you’d stopped teasing me earlier, maybe you could’ve shut me up—”

in an instant, katsuki’s looming over you, sculptured chest pressed flush against your back. a hand snakes beneath your chin and angles it so that you can look at him in the mirror when he talks, his voice shifting to a low, commanding rumble. “oh, i’ll shut you up. you’re going to sit here and watch me wreck you.”

your hand threads into his soft hair, and you tug hard, enjoying the way his adam’s apple bobs with a barely held-back moan. “so make it fit, katsuki.”

rough palms navigate the planes of your back as katsuki positions himself behind you, lining up his aching cock with your hole. fuck, as much as he hates to admit it, he’s been dying for this—it’s evident in the groan of relief that escapes him when he sinks into your cunt, sliding in easily. his eyes crinkle at the corners as he fully notices just how wet and ready you’d been to take all seven inches of him; you’re wrapped around his cock and pulsing, too tight and velvety for him to handle.

“gonna move yet?” you taunt him, chin propped up on a fist while you watch him in the mirror. he’s got his lower lip flat between his teeth, and he practically spits it out with a huff, glaring at you.

“i thought i would’ve fuckin’ taught you to be a little more patient by now,” and katsuki goes from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds, his veins singing with adrenaline. he sounds genuinely irritated now, but you could’ve probably gleamed that from the harsh smacks of his hips into your ass. “can’t ever listen, huh? all i was askin’ for was for you to—shit—to tell me what you wanted . . you knew i’d give it to you, like i always do, and yet you chose to mouth off instead.”

you weren’t prepared to feel his tip french kissing your cervix with each and every powerful thrust of his hips; it makes you squeal and try to run away, but to no avail. katsuki’s grip on your waist is bruising and leaves no room for any more resistance, especially after so much pettiness. “w-wait,” you stutter, pushing a pathetic hand between your body and his to curb the intensity, “‘m not ready yet—”

“keep crying,” he snaps, closing his fingers around your wrist. without missing a beat, katsuki tosses your hand to the side and keeps going, eyes burning into yours through the glass. “isn’t this what you wanted? seems to me like you should shut up and savor it, sweetheart.”

it’s cruel and merciless. just the way he’s being rough tells you you’ll be sore all over by tomorrow, but you simply can’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop, not when it’s starting to feel like heaven.

a breathless mewl of his name tears out of your throat, and the cracking of your voice is like music to katsuki’s ears. earthquake-like shudders rock your entire body, and he can’t help but coo at you, swiping two fingers through the mess spilling along your skin.

“go ahead and look at yourself, girl,” sticky fingertips press past your parted lips and you start to suck, eyes rolling back at the taste of yourself. “yeah, who’s fucking you like this? tell me whose cock you’re going dumb on.”

you whimper sweetly, keening just as he expected you to. “yours, katsuki. ‘m all yours.”

laden with muscle and taut with fatigue, his chest heaves as he drags in huffs of air. he’s flushed from head to toe and grinning, undeniably proud of his handiwork. you must be drunk on him now, your easy admissions of being his a far cry from your attitude earlier. “keep your arch—ngh, you got it. shit, that’s my girl. taking it like a fuckin’ champ.”

as katsuki watches himself fuck you, no less primal than animals on a safari, amusement strokes through his body. why can’t you just tell him what you want to begin with? maybe the little arguments are part of your fun, he suspects. but, if you want him to be rough and mean, all you have to do is simply ask.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU + #munch

“if you don’t just sit down and use me, i’m gonna red riot—”

“eijirou!” you whine, embarrassment working its way into your tone, “i’m really not sure about this. can’t i just lay on my back instead of risking breaking your neck or something?”

with a breezy laugh, eijirou shakes his head and lets his palms comfortingly circle your hips to keep you in place. since he’d suggested it in a rush during the ritual of undressing and positioning, you didn’t think too far into it until you found yourself hovering above his face. even with all of his insistence, you are unwilling to break your boyfriend’s neck or nose by sitting on his face—what an embarrassing explanation to deliver to the doctors in the emergency room!

“if it’s absolutely necessary, i’ll lift you up, okay? please, just sit down,” his ruby red eyes are wide and pleading; not even your nervous glare deters him. with a toothy smile, he adds, “c’mon, baby. you’re the one who’ll be in control anyway.”

you almost don’t notice the way he’s tugging you down, closing the gap between your soaked cunt and his mouth. eijirou tries not to get too excited—it might make you think he’s suffocating when he goes quiet—even though his feet are kicking happily at the end of the couch. thankfully, you’re facing away from the lower half of his body, so you also can’t see his dick trying to push out of his sweats.

“ei, oh my god.” the very first slurp of his eager mouth against your pussy takes your breath away and makes you squirm, rocking your hips forward and back. eijirou’s watching your every movement and sorting them by category for his spank bank, all while letting out low, incomprehensible groans.

“oh, this is—it feels so good,” and it does, much more than anything he’s made you feel before. before long, you’re more comfortable on his face and scantly riding his tongue, quickly growing drunk on the way he uses it. “eiji, y-you can’t stop.”

“baby,” he mumbles wetly, before raising you up to stare into your lidded eyes from between your thighs. a red flush has made its way across his cheeks and nearly matches the dyed shade of his hair, but he looks cute like this. “‘m all yours,” gravelly and devoted, eijirou’s voice reaches your pussy before your ears and makes it all the more messy, “you’re the boss now, babe. ride me, choke me, i don’t care. i only wanna keep tasting ya.”

swallowing a whimper, you settle back onto his face and unsurely plant your palms down on the couch for support. you’re a breathless mess, shaking on his tongue as you ride it to get off—eijirou just slurps and slurps, drinking you in without any care in the world. he loves to spoil you, even if it means making you do a little bit of work instead of just laying back. maybe you’ll cum so hard you only ever want to sit on his face again, and then he’ll never ever have any bad days if this is what he can come home to.

“eiji, you’re getting all messy,” you mewl, shameless eyes sweeping over the sticky wetness coating his face. you can see it glinting on his cheeks and even his forehead; he just moans out something like i know, baby and makes a show of winking before diving back in to lap you up like a creampuff. “hah, you—you’re so sloppy, fuck.”

in the moment that you’re trembling, positioning yourself to ride his tongue like it’s the first time you’ve ever had it, eijirou chooses to let his playful streak bubble to the surface. very lightly, his teeth nibble at your swollen clit and this sends shocks of electricity racing up and down your spine like an active power line.

earthquake-like tremors rock your entire body as you roll your hips, focusing on the stars streaking across your vision and the building pressure in your lower body. “ei, ‘m gonna cum pretty soon,” you squeal, digging a hand into his hair while your thighs unconsciously squeeze around both sides of his head. “h-holy shit . . cumming, ‘m cumming eiji!”

eijirou’s absolutely got the best seat in the house. your pinched expression melts into one of pure, unadulterated euphoria as you gush all over his mouth and completely forget about your worries about suffocating him. he helps you grind your hips harder when you chase the high, freefalling over the edge until the sensitivity eventually sets in.

“mmm, that’s it, sweetheart,” lapping at your sobbing folds with renewed vigor, eijirou holds you in place when you try to squirm away, complaining about it’s too much, when in reality is isn’t enough. he could devour you for hours, and you want to be done after five minutes. “you deserve all this and more, don’t you think? can’t you just sit here while i get my fill of this pretty cunt? i’m just not done yet.”

KAMINARI DENKI + too greedy

if you were good house guests and even better friends, you probably wouldn’t be pinned under denki and working your hips along his cock in a bed that isn’t even yours! this isn’t a hotel, it’s hanta’s flat, and you’re defiling the place by being split open like a pomegranate while your friend is off on a grocery run (at least, that’s how hanta had described the whole incident involving some other friends—he walked into his living room after returning from a run to two people going at it doggy style on the carpet).

but it’s okay, right? it’s not like you’d been waiting for hanta to leave so you could have sex; it just happened naturally, stemming from an innocent cuddle session on the bed while you scrolled through instagram. this is different from the incident because you’re in your own guest room and denki set towels down in case of emergency.

“a-again, i’m gonna cum again,” you wail brokenly, manicured nails digging into his biceps for purchase against the sweeping euphoria, “denki, oh my god—”

“lemme feel it, c’mon. hah, don’t hold back, ‘kay? let it allll out—be a good girl.”

oh, and you do. all it takes are his filthy words in your ears to spark your high and send you right off the edge. denki swallows, feeling lightheaded, but drool still spills past the corners of his lips and runs down his chin in gooey trails.

“aw, sweets,” his chuckle dissolves into a ragged breath, and he tries not to sound too disappointed when he tells you, “looks like you pushed me out.”

denki’s exhausted, covered in sweat, and pink in the cheeks. between your thighs, he’s fumbling with his dick—which is probably purple with overstimulation by now—and trying to push it back inside of you, but to no avail. though you’re leaning back on the pillows and trying to catch your breath, you notice his lower lip wobbling just the slightest bit.

“i’ve got it, denki. there’s no need to cry, i’ll—”

“i’m not crying,” he corrects you immediately, but he sounds like he’s about to start when you grab his cock. your hands are soft and oh so warm as you handle him with care, loosely stroking his length to keep him hard. inch by inch, he watches himself disappear inside you, unable to stop letting out embarrassing noises that you just giggle at.

“on your back. i-i’ll take care of you for a little while.”

changing positions really shows you how sensitive he is, the way he’s barely holding onto his composure by a thread. all of the movement on the mattress makes the wiry bedframe squeak, high pitched and a little unsettling. there’s probably no chance of it breaking, but if it did . . to say the least, hanta would never let you stay over again.

“goddamn. look at ya, you’re so sexy.” you roll your eyes as you sort yourself out on his cock, flattening your palms against his chest for stability. clearly, a moment of respite has allowed him to regain tons of energy again; he squeezes the fat of your ass and whistles lowly, a nasty grin forming on his lips as he does so. “maybe you ride my face after this.”

“shut uppp, i liked you better when you couldn’t talk.”

denki scoffs, pretending to be affronted. “heyyy, that was rude. i don’t see a problem with catching a—nghh, shit . . o-okay, shutting up now.”

a creamy mixture of his mess and yours drips from your sloppy cunt, puddling all over his pelvic bone. he should definitely wipe it away with the nearby towel to prevent so much as a single drop from spilling onto the bed, but his quirk is going a little haywire and zapping his brain like he’s got a defibrillator pressed to his forehead. tiny yellow sparks fly off of the ends of his hair, harmless and faintly tingly against your skin.

“that good, huh?” you smirk, starting to ride his cock, and denki reaches for your bouncing tits with stars in his eyes. a bunch of slutty, debauched thoughts suddenly fly through his head and out of his mouth before he can control it.

“s-so soft. ooh, can i cum inside?” his golden eyes follow the glossy fluids pouring down your inner thighs, a clear hunger shining in them. despite the fogginess that’s set into every corner of his body, he can still form one coherent thought that trumps the others: more more more. he whines your name, nearly choking on it, and strokes his thumbs over your nipples eagerly. “please, can i fill you up?”

you suck in a shallow breath, mentally deciding that this is the final round. splotches of dried and drying cum are smeared across every inch of your naked body, with the most of it being between your legs. at some point, you’ll have to stop and clean up, preferably before hanta gets home. “just one more time,” then you smirk, leaning in close to see him explode. “ngh, fuck a baby into me, denki. flip me over and make me yours, won’t you?”

with a drawn out moan, he does as you ask and slots himself on top of your body, as if he’s trying to melt into you. he’s trembling, unsure of where to put himself in this moment, so he presses his forehead against yours and shuts his eyes. “t-this is supposed to be the best position for makin’ babies. oh, oh fuck, you’re so tight on my—haah, ‘m cumming.”

denki collapses on top of you, sparking and spasming in your arms. he’s still running his mouth, babbling out incoherent praises and whining your name so loudly his throat will be hoarse by the time he’s coming down.

“nobody’s answering their fucking phone!” a voice rings through the thin, shoddy wooden door and sounds both angry and flustered. “i came over here to ask for help with all the groceries and then the door was wide open. i’m never trusting you two alone in my apartment again.”

wheezing against your chest, denki takes it upon himself to speak out . . even though he’s just fried the hell out of his brain. “dude, hanta, it’s not that serious—”

“easy for you to say!” on the other side of the door, hanta blanches, feeling nauseous and awkward, “i had the misfortune of seeing you short circuit outside of battle.”

TAKAMI KEIGO + gets extremely pussydrunk

maybe it’s your smile, or the way your eyes light up with mirth when you touch him innocently. keigo thinks it may even be more than one thing—he’s just hopelessly in love with you and unable to find fault in anything you do. by the time you’re sitting down on his cock right after having sucked his soul out, a switch flips in his brain and everything completely shuts off.

all that matters is you; your presence commands his attention and silences his thoughts, even the ones that stress him out so badly his feathers start to itch. what will he eat for lunch tomorrow? can he finish the assignments dumped on him by the time they’re due? none of that matters now, not when you’re grabbing his chin and pulling him into a hot kiss.

“ugh, fuck – you drive me so crazy,” keigo mumbles as your lips crush against his own, effectively silencing anything else he had to say. and then, with his face in your hands, you start to bounce on his lap, fucking your hips down onto his cock at a pace that is astonishingly fast . . for you.

your lips part to let out a faint moan into his mouth, and he eagerly swallows it, making a similar noise once your tongue finally slides against his. wet and warm, it carries the bittersweet taste of his previous orgasm, the one that actually made you choke—keigo had cum so damn hard you could barely hold all of it in your mouth, and it just kept coming until it spilled down your chin in milky streams.

on either side of his body, vermillion feathers flail like flags in the wind, unrestrained in any way. you’re setting your clammy palms upon his shoulders to hold yourself up against the unstoppable barrage of his cock, the tight squeeze as you work it deeper.

“s-so good,” you babble dumbly, barely able to hear anything over the sound of your heartbeat, “ooh, kei! i love you, i love your cock—”

nodding furiously, keigo takes measures into his own hands—literally. trembling palms circle your waist, and once he gets a stable hold on your squirming body, he starts to move you up and down. he hisses impatiently, but continues to properly warm you up for what’s about to happen.

one particular stroke makes your back arch, akin to the shape of a banana, and keigo immediately knows what this means. he emits a low, breathy chuckle and pulls your hips down again, particular in the way he does so. “found it, babygirl.”

“right there,” you gasp sharply, and it feels like the air is being continuously punched out of your lungs when he moves you in a purposeful rhythm. it’s efficient and a lot less sloppy than what you had executed, hitting directly into your sweet spot every single time.

keigo draws in a breath, relocating one of his hands to your lower tummy and firmly pressing down. the pressure makes you tighter, and makes him go deeper—shockwaves resonate through both bodies. “yeah? right there, angel? you feel me here?”

collapsing into him allows you to tuck your face into his neck and breathe in his personal medley of natural scent and high quality cologne, which has faded over the course of the day. your arms are draped over his back now, fingertips brushing lightly against the downy fluff at the sensitive base of his wings, where feathers coalesce into skin.

your teeth are chattering and tears are starting to overflow past your eyes, “ah, kei, ‘s like i can feel you all over. i think – i think ‘m pretty close now.”

keigo grunts, applying more pressure; it’s enough to make you squeal with what sounds like delight. arousal burns through your body and pools hot and heavy in your gut, much like magma before a volcanic eruption. because his wings constantly show off his true emotions around you—especially in more vulnerable situations such as this one—the pinions at the apexes of each individual wing start to wiggle.

if he wasn’t being fucked to death—or using you to fuck him—he’d probably be a little more embarrassed about the blatant display of joy. a smile or laugh is one thing, but his feathers wiggling back and forth is another. without even the smallest shred of concentration, stopping the movement is impossible.

“make a mess for me,” molten gold eyes meet your own, crinkling at the sides as the inflection of desperation pushes through the words, “shit, i need to see you cum—” keigo cuts himself off with a hoarse groan, struggling to move your hips over his lap as the full-body tremors set in. “ngh, angel. be a good—goddamn, s-so tight—a good girl and cum all over this cock, ‘kay? you have to go first, it has to be you. i can’t, fuck, hold it much longer. just lookin’ at you makes me want to—!”

a feeble squeal cuts through the air like a knife through butter and you are temporarily frozen in place when you cum. sweat gleams along your skin, shimmering around your knitted brows, and your parted lips are sticky with a mixture of spit and drool. keigo wishes he could just see you cum like this again and again, going stiff on his cock—then the rush hits you like a freight train.

you start to cry as cum spurts out of you in copious streams, wetting the entirety of his pelvis. there’s so much all at once, and the spasming clenches of your cunt around him are enough to send his high crashing down over him like a tsunami wave. keigo’s wings instinctually wrap around you in a snug hold when he spills inside you, moaning your name until his voice breaks. his balls don’t feel quite as heavy any more, now that he’s filled you up with everything he had to give.

“relax, baby,” keigo coos, thumbing tears away from your cheeks. stars and spirals flash across his vision and he’s slurring his words, but the comfort feels better when he’s dazed like this. then he looks down, and his jaw audibly drops open. “wow! we . . made a mess, didn’t we?”

sharp and urgent, your nails dig half moons into his bare shoulders the second he starts trying to move. “not yet, kei. can’t you just stay inside me?”

keigo wants to make a pregnancy joke, but fortunately, he refrains. however, you see the idea pass through his mind—his flushed cheeks darken ever so slightly, and he smooths out an almost smile, fighting against its tug on his lips. “whattt? can’t a chef taste what was made with his recipe?”

warm embarrassment licks at the tips of your ears, but you try not to avert your eyes. “that makes no sense, keigo.”

his fingertips doodle obscure shapes into your skin, his touch featherlight. keigo hums meaningfully, allowing his hand to move just a centimeter closer to your ass. “all i’m saying is bend over or lay back with your legs open.”

as tantalizing as his suggestion sounds, your pussy still throbs with soreness. “kei,” you sigh out his name like you’re actually tired, “i don’t – i think i’m way too sensitive for that.”

the thing is, keigo doesn’t actually care if you end up cumming too hard or too fast, or if you cry from overstimulation. he intends to devour you not only for your pleasure, but for his own—he needs this in order to feel satiated. “please, angel? i think i’ll die if i’m not between your thighs in the next two minutes.”

you bite your lip, feeling hot and heavy all over. he feels you tighten around his cock and knows he’s successfully convinced you; he unintentionally matches you by twitching once or twice against your cervix. “fine, kei,” you relent, giving in as if you could’ve ever refused, “but only if you’ll let me mess with your wings while you eat it.”

[azzo0]

Let's talk about Katsuki, who happens to be dating a med student. Both of your guys' schedules are hectic— rising with the sun and sleeping a few hours before it rises again.

But still, you manage to make time for each other. He makes sure to drop by your place on the weekends with your favourite drink even though he knows your nose will be buried deep in your laptop or a textbook. You're not hearing a single complaint from him, though. You can study while he's still there. On his lap.

He'll silently lift you from the chair and sit on it, dropping you on his thighs. You'll kiss his temple and continue working on your laptop while he scrolls on his phone with his forehead resting on your back, or he'll simply close his eyes with his arms wrapped around your waist while his lips lazily kiss your hair or the back of your neck. He lets you study all you want, but sometimes, he feels like being mischievous.

His breath will fan your jugular while his hands slip under your shirt or move ever so slowly down to your thigh, where he'll give it a firm squeeze, pull your legs slightly apart and draw circles with his thumb on your inner thigh. He likes watching you try to pretend like you don't care what he's doing when you're really crumbling with every touch. He keeps toying with you until you finally give up and turn around to give him a rough kiss and order him to carry you to the bed.

He's not the only one who pays visits. Sometimes, after class, you drive to his agency even if he's not there. You wait for him in his office, in his chair, while doing your own thing. Usually, when he's back, he has a bruise or an ugly gash from a fight with a villain. He insists he'll get it checked from the clinic, but you know he won't, so you tend him instead.

He knows med school isn't easy and that you can't be hanging out with him all the time. He knows you like holing up in your room and distancing yourself from the rest of the world when you have exams and tests coming up, so he gives you the space you need. He also knows how much burden you put on yourself during these days, so his brain has developed an alarm system where he automatically knows you're having a bad day. He drags you out of your apartment by force if he has to so you can take in some fresh air, or he simply drops by to make you your favourite dish and clean up for you. He can tell when you just need his company, so he sits on your bed while you study, his presence comforting your nerves a little bit.

He loves watching you study, but his favourite bit is when he is a part of your study/ practice. He willingly gives you his arm to practice drawing blood, even if takes you a few tries to insert the needle properly. Oh, he loves presenting his arms to you, his veins already protruding out. He doesn't miss the glint in your eye or the way you subtly bite your lips before meeting his gaze.

He loves loves loves when you have an anatomy exam most of all. It's not really studying, but damn, it's so hot when you're straddling his lap with his shirt off, your fingers roaming on his bare skin, while you yap on and on in a dead-serious tone about every muscle and structure.

Once, you were sitting on his lap during a similar session and you grabbed his chin and tilted his head head upwards, making him look to the side. You ran your fingers on the strong muscle of his neck that popped out, your touch sending shivers down his spine.

"This, Katsuki, is your sternocleidomastoid." You said.

He turned his face to you again, his pants tightening a bit too much for his liking. He couldn't make out the complex words falling out of your pretty lips because he was patiently waiting for you to point out every muscle of his and then just kiss him. He knew you were well aware of his erection poking your crotch, but you went on despite it and fuck, it pissed him off and turned him on at the same time.

He took your hand and smoothly guided it down to his hardened, clothed dick, "And what is this called, Doc?"

You gave him a coy smile, your fingers playing with the band of his pants, "You see, there are a lot of parts to name here, so I might need to take a proper look to name them all for you."

And all he could do was try not to come undone while you looked up at him through your long lashes while telling him about his own anatomy.

[blank-potato]

need that

Pairing: John Walker x Reader

Summary:

You watched as he stood at the sink, razor in hand, slowly dragging it across his jawline with practised ease. The muscles in his back flexed as he leaned in closer to the mirror. Thank goodness for inhibitions, otherwise you’d be going crazy and trying to pounce on him. He caught your eyes in the mirror and gave a small smirk. “You alright there?” You blinked, realising you’d been staring. Or You think everything he does is hot, and eventually he takes notice.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, implied smut, confessions, pining, yearning, all hours are yearning hours for reader

WC: 2.3K

A/N: Thank you @fire-joestar for this request and idea! I have another one for Bob with the same concept here. Hope you all enjoy it!

☆☆☆

You wanted John Walker so bad that it was becoming a problem. Friends weren’t supposed to be crazy in love with other friends, but here you were, heart racing every time he so much as looked your way.

It came to the point where he’d be standing still, and you’d just be absolutely losing your mind. The way his jaw clenched when he was focused, how his biceps stretched the sleeves of his shirts, it was enough to short-circuit your brain.

Like when he caught you staring and started talking to you about his guns, “This one is pretty good for close-quarters. Lightweight, easy trigger…”

You nod along and pretend to pay attention, but it’s hot the way he’d handle them, all casual and confident. The way his fingers curled around the grip, the intensity in his eyes when he explained the mechanics, you’d transform into a gun right now if you could, just for the chance to be held like that.

“You still with me?” John asks, raising an eyebrow and giving you that crooked half-smile that never failed to melt your brain.

You nod, maybe a little too eagerly, even though he’d lost you as soon as you saw the veins in his hand flex around the barrel. You’re not even sure what he’s talking about anymore. Tactical specs? Firing range? Who cares. 

"Cool," he says, and goes right back to talking shop, completely unaware that you're about three seconds away from combusting.

It was an everyday occurrence. But during training, it was something else entirely. That’s when things really test your self-control.

Flipping you over like you weighed nothing during sparring sessions, he was strong and agile, all precision and power wrapped in that unfairly good-looking package. You found yourself on the mat more often than not, too distracted to fight properly. 

Not to mention listening to him talk, helping direct you on how to angle your arms, how to keep your balance and improve your fighting stance. It was so distracting the way he’d give directions, voice low and focused.

“Right foot here, and I want you to put all your weight behind it when you punch,” he’d say, tapping the mat lightly where he wanted your foot to go.

“Alright,” you murmur, trying not to sound like you're dying inside, and you try again, not quite doing as he instructed. He observes you for a moment, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. 

“Can I?” he asks, hands hovering near your hips, asking for permission, like you wouldn’t let him do pretty much anything. 

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly.

He moves your hips into place with a firm, steady grip that has no business being that gentle. “Now,” he continues, voice closer now, “shift forward and twist your hips, it has to be all one movement.”

He’d basically been manhandling you, guiding your arms, adjusting your hips until you were exactly where he wanted you. But still, he was gentle and patient, never getting frustrated, always calm, always in control.

And it was so unbelievably hot.

You could only imagine where else those firm instructions and steady hands would come in handy. The way he said, "twist your hips"? Yeah, you were already spiralling.

“I’ve lost you again,” John says, catching the faraway, glazed-over look on your face, one brow raised.

“No, no, I’m… I’m here,” you stammer, blinking hard and trying to pull yourself back into the moment, even though your brain had very much left the building five minutes ago. He smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. And you’re not sure if that’s better or worse.

But you’re hopeless whether or not he’s interacting with you or not. Watching him work out in any capacity was a dangerous game. You were at risk of keeling over and dying on the spot every single time.

Watching him run on the treadmill, sweat glistening on his skin, shirt clinging to every sculpted line of muscle. Or when he boxed, the way his muscles rippled with every jab, every hook, every fluid, powerful movement. You were obsessed.

You put your head in your hands for a second, trying to cool down your spiralling thoughts, then looked back up at him.

He turned to you just then, wiping sweat from his neck with a towel, chest heaving slightly from exertion, and asked, “Did you need something?”

“N-nope,” You stutter out as you walk backwards out of the room, bumping into multiple walls, your eyes not once leaving his shirtless body. 

Though you liked the little things too.

He offers to drive you wherever you need to go, because, well, after a few incidents of reckless driving, your license had been suspended.

In your defence, it was a matter of life and death. Several times. But try explaining that you were being hunted by sword-wielding assassins and not getting laughed out of the room. 

You climb into the passenger seat, trying not to feel awkward about it. 

“Thanks…” You mumble as you buckle your seatbelt. He glances over at you, mouth tugging into a faint smirk. “You’re lucky I like you,” he says, teasing just enough to make your chest flutter.

He’s quiet at first, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift. The windows are down, wind in his hair, sun in his eyes. Then once you reach your destination, he does the thing. 

The thing where he puts his arm around the back of your seat as he reverses, his jawline sharp in the golden wash of afternoon light, the clean, strong line of his neck exposed beneath the collar of his shirt.

You don’t know why it has you holding your breath, but it does. Maybe it’s the casual way he does it, like he’s done it a hundred times. Or the fact that he’s so in control and completely unaware of how stupidly attractive what he’s doing is.

You’re gawking, and you know you’re gawking, but you’re only human. Gawking was your speciality, and you’re always putting yourself in situations to do it. 

Like when he’d be on cooking duty and you’d jump at the opportunity to be his unofficial sous-chef, just to be near him. You’re currently struggling with this godforsaken onion. Eyes watering, grip awkward, and the knife refusing to cooperate.

“I can do that for you,” John offers gently, taking the onion from your hands with that same ease he handled everything. “The blade’s dull, that’s why you’re having such a hard time…”

You nod, blinking away the sting in your eyes as you watch him grab the knife-sharpening rod. He starts working the blade against it with practised movements.

John Walker is an acts of service king; you noticed it early on. One time, you had barely even acknowledged that you were thirsty. There was no glass of water in front of you, you barely even sighed, but before you could even stand, John had quietly placed one in your hand without a word. 

Or when you fell asleep on the couch, and felt the weight of a blanket being placed on top of you, the warm, familiar scent of his cologne letting you know it was him. You didn’t even have to open your eyes. He didn’t say anything, didn’t wake you.

Just made sure you were comfortable and tucked the blanket around your shoulders. He could be loud, commanding, the centre of attention when he needed to be, but moments like that reminded you of how soft he could be when no one was looking.

You snap out of the memory, focusing back on him as he now dices the onion with mechanical precision, the knife gliding like it was an extension of his hand.

“See? Easy when your tools actually work,” he says with a half-smile, glancing your way.

A few days later, you were searching for him to get some insight on a mission you’d all be heading out on later that day.

You try not to swoon. Or stare. Or let him see how completely ridiculous it is that someone chopping onions could look that good.

But honestly? It’s a losing battle.

“John?” you called out from outside his door, your knuckles tapping lightly.

“Come in!” he called back casually.

You step inside. His room was as clean and precise as you’d expect. Neatly made bed, organised, everything in its place. You glance around, not seeing him at first, but the moment you step into the bathroom, your soul threatens to leave your body. 

You’d seen him shirtless often enough that you should be used to it by now, but nope. Especially not like this. The room was steamy from the shower, and he stood there with only a towel slung low around his hips, v-line in full view, chest gleaming slightly in the light.

You watched as he stood at the sink, razor in hand, slowly dragging it across his jawline with practised ease. The muscles in his back flexed as he leaned in closer to the mirror.

Thank goodness for inhibitions, otherwise you’d be going crazy and trying to pounce on him.

He caught your eyes in the mirror and gave a small smirk. “You alright there?”

You blinked, realising you’d been staring.

“Yeah,” you croaked. “Yeah, I… just came to ask about the mission.”

He turned slightly, not even trying to cover up. “Sure. Just give me a second to finish up. Unless you’re in a rush?”

You shook your head fast. “No rush. I can wait.”

So you stay there, doing your best to focus as he continues to shave.

You start going over the mission details to distract yourself, letting him know the objectives, listening to his responses, but it’s nearly impossible. 

Thankfully, the next, next mission, you sat out with Bob, spending the day chilling and playing Mario Kart with him. It was easy and a perfect distraction from the John problem, as you started dubbing it. Until the rest of the team walked back in.

They looked rough. Bruised, dirty, clearly fresh off a firefight. John was at the front, jaw tight, a few shallow cuts on his arms and a particularly nasty one near his temple that definitely needed attention, yet he still somehow looked unfairly good.

You barely had time to blink before his eyes found yours. Then he was moving, across the room, straight to where you were still curled up on the couch.

Without a word, he jerked his head toward the hallway. “We need to talk.”

You blinked, glancing at the others like someone might tell you what the hell was happening, but no one seemed surprised. With a sigh, you stood and followed him down the hall to a quiet, empty corner. Why this was his number one priority after a mission was beyond you.

“We do?” you asked, arms crossing defensively.

“You’ve been looking at me weird for a while now,” he said, tone unreadable but eyes locked on yours.

You froze. “What?”

He stepped a little closer. “You have. In the kitchen. In the gym. In my car. You stare.”

Your mouth opened but closed just as fast. How on earth would you rebut any of his claims? You doubt you had been subtle in the slightest; if someone made a compilation of you staring at John, they’d have enough footage to make a movie. 

“You’re imagining things,” you said, way too quickly.

He tilted his head, clearly not buying it. “Am I?”

You step back, but your back hits the wall, the space between the two of you impossibly small.

“You like me, don’t you?”

Hearing that you’re sure it’s over for you. You stand there waiting for the ground to swallow you whole. You look down, unable to meet his eyes, but then his fingers are under your chin, tipping your head up gently.

“It’s okay if you do,” he says, a teasing glint in his eye. “I like me too.”

You let out a breathy laugh and swat at his chest playfully. “Asshole…”

He laughs with you, but soon his expression softens, the teasing giving way to something deeper.

“I like you too,” he says quietly.

The words hit like fireworks going off in your chest. You mean that?” You ask to which John answers genuinely, “Yeah, I do.”

“Do you…” You start, heart racing, “Do you want to show me how much you like me?” you ask, voice dropping, the boldness rising in your chest before you can second-guess it.

He smirks at you, then he pulls you in, his hands cupping your face like you’re something fragile and precious. His lips meet yours gently, and you melt as you hold onto his arms. Without them, you’d be a puddle on the floor. The kiss slowly deepens, becoming more passionate, more desperate. Your fingers curl in his hair, pulling him closer like it’s instinct. He groans softly at the touch, one hand slipping from your cheek to your waist, then he slots his knee between your legs and…

“No, no, no. Not outside my room,” Yelena interrupts with a sigh, “Take that somewhere private.”

Alexei is grinning like a proud dad, arms folded, nodding approvingly. Bucky is concerned about how quickly you guys started making out against the wall.

Ava just throws up her hands in relief, muttering, “Finally,” under her breath, clearly thrilled that she no longer has to witness you making heart eyes at John during every single meal, briefing, and training session.

And Bob? Bob’s smiling, warm and supportive, genuinely happy for you both… though mildly overwhelmed, like he just walked into something he isn’t entirely sure how to exit.

John chuckles, slipping his hand into yours. “Well… you heard the lady.”

You groan into your hands, face burning.

Yelena’s already walking away, calling over her shoulder, “I’m ordering pizza for dinner. If you two are going to be gross again, do it behind a closed door.”

He pulls you towards his room, and the second you get inside, you shove him onto his bed, trying to peel his suit off. 

“Eager, aren’t you?” John chuckles. 

“Shut up.”

Masterlist

[taeghi]

keep it between us

the rule was simple: don't fall in love with your best friend's boyfriend. but jay doesn't make it that easy. so it leaves you thinking... are some rules meant to be broken?

PAIRING : bffs ex-bf!jay x y/n

GENRE : SMUT = MDNI, angst, some fluff?? cheating, some cum play, choking, slight slapping, degradation, exhibitionism

WC : 29.3k!!!!

this wasn't proof read!! im sorry!! pls enjoy

ruby is your best friend in the entire world. 

it’s a fact you find yourself repeating in your head more often than you’d like to admit. almost like you’re reminding yourself that you love this girl. 

it’s easy to realize that you love ruby when it’s just the two of you. whether you’re hanging out in her apartment watching a movie or at a cafe getting coffee together, it’s simple, relaxing. 

but at times like now, you feel like you have to forcibly remind yourself that ruby is your best friend in the entire world. 

your best friend has brought you to a party tonight, even though it’s a wednesday and you both have an 8am class tomorrow. somehow, situations like this are common in your friendship. you tell her no, give a rational, logical reason as to why you say no. and then ruby persuades you with her hunger for spontaneity everytime to do the opposite. 

from the outside, you and ruby look like complete opposites. even right now, at this party, others that don’t know or ruby would guess that you don’t even know each other, let alone be best friends. 

you’re sitting on a couch, lazily holding a red cup with some punch in it that tastes like shit, most likely because it was created by a group of frat boys. you’re sitting with a few people that you know from your classes, adding occasional statements to their conversation. 

meanwhile, ruby is absolutely wasted already, dancing all over heeseung at the pool table. she’s got her arms thrown around his neck, dancing and twirling off his body. you can hear her squeals of laughter from across the room, even over the loud music playing. 

it’s hard to not notice ruby. besides the fact that she’s constantly getting herself into situations where she’s the centre of attention (last weekend she fell off a table at a party from dancing too hard). ruby is beautiful— far away from “stereotypical” beauty. she literally excels with an aura of beauty. everywhere she goes, she has eyes on her. it’s something she’s come to expect and love. 

the thing about you and ruby is that in the areas of yourself that need to be more adventure seeking and social, ruby provides you. in the places where ruby needs more rationality and grounding is what you give her. both of you have traits that the other needs, which perfectly aligns and blends you together. which is what makes ruby your best friend. 

“what the fuck are you doing?” a man’s voice questions angrily. you turn to where the voice came from, right where ruby was dancing with heeseung. the person who you expected to be standing there, was. 

jay park is ruby’s boyfriend. they’ve been dating on and off again for the past two years. you’ve tried to remember the reason why the broke up for the first time, only one month into their relationship at that point, but it’s no use. they’ve broken up so many times over the past two years that you can’t connect what reason to the number of break up. 

jay and ruby are so similar yet so different at the same time. it’s exhausting. 

everyone at your college knows about jay and ruby’s complicated relationship. which is why no one at this party is surprised right now that jay and ruby are fighting, again. 

they both can be chaotic and impulsive, which so easily leads to their fights being dramatic and escalating quickly. they’re unpredictable together. one second they’re yelling until their faces are red, and the next they’re crawling back into bed with each other. their attraction to each other is strong enough that their commitment issues are almost constantly showing. 

“i’m dancing jay, is that a problem?” ruby answers him, her face twisted in annoyance as she holds one of her hands on heeseung’s shoulder as she stares down her boyfriend. 

“yeah, you’re grinding on heeseung, right in front of me.” 

ruby only chuckles, “i’m just having fun, jay. chill out.” 

“chill out?” you can see jay’s jaw tense from across the room, “how can i do that when my girlfriend looks desperate as fuck grinding on whoever is closest to her.” 

ruby’s faux smile drops from her pretty face, her eyes narrowing at jay in front of her. heeseung’s stuck in the middle of them. 

“why can’t i have fun without you getting all possessive? i’m not yours, jay.” 

jay scoffs, “yeah, clearly you fucking aren’t. don’t come near me again.” jay shakes his head at her before he turns, bee-lining it through the crowd of people. 

“fuck you, asshole!” ruby shouts after him, her chest heaving in anger as she watches her ex boyfriend storm out of the party. 

you can’t help but sigh as you know that it’s time for you to get ruby to go home with you. you’ll have to see her switch from crying to yelling in anger about jay until tomorrow morning, when they will most likely forgive each other again. ruby is your best friend in the entire world. 

“have fun,” maria, a girl from your calculus class, nudges you with a smile. knowing to a certain extent what you’re going to have to deal with for the next eight hours. 

“thanks,” you roll your eyes playfully. 

“i just, i don’t get why they can’t just break up for good. like they seem miserable together.” jake, a boy from the rugby team at your college, grumbles. 

you shrug, “if you find out, don’t forget to tell me.” 

your classmates tell you they’ll see you tomorrow as you head over to ruby, who’s sobbing into heeseung’s shirt now. by the look on his face you can tell he has no idea what to do, he feels awkward about this whole thing. 

“ruby?” you place your hands on her shoulders gently, “wanna get out of here?” 

ruby turns to you, her lips pouting and her makeup running down her face, “please, y/n.” 

she lets you start to guide her away from poor heeseung and outside. you smile awkwardly at heeseung, trying to reassure him that everything’s fine. he looks as confused as ever, but he manages to smile back at you before you get lost in the sea of people. 

ruby puts her head on your shoulder during the uber ride home. her crying has turned into small sniffles. “he’s such an asshole, y/n.” she tells you, a sentence that you’ve heard one million times before. 

“i know,” 

ruby lifts her head up to look at you, her lips still in a pout, “but he’ll come back, right? he always does.” 

you force a reassuring smile at her, knowing that no matter what you say, she’ll only listen to what she thinks. “right, he always does.” 

she manages to smile weakly at your words, returning her head to your shoulder. 

ruby is your best friend in the entire world. 

you wake up the next morning, way past 8am, to your phone ringing. 

almost blinding, you reach for it, keeping your head on your pillow as you answer and mumble a scratching “hello” into the line. 

you instantly hear crying, gasping for air, like sobbing, “he— he blocked me!” 

“who?” you rub your eyes, trying to understand what you were hearing.

“jay! he fucking blocked me!” 

memories from the night before come back to you as you remember dropping off a crying ruby at her apartment before you went home and passed out. you don’t know what to say to her. they’ve broken up and made up so many times before that you don’t feel any urgency to try to comfort her since they’ll probably be back together before you go to sleep tonight. but he’s never blocked her before. 

“he’s being so ridiculous!” ruby continues, her voice shaking, “i just need my stuff from his place but he’s wont fucking answer me. can you go get it for me, y/n? please.” 

you roll over onto your back to stare at the ceiling. you want to say no. you want to say that she should deal with something by herself for once. but you know that you’re already going to do it for her. just like every other time she’s called you crying about jay. 

“yeah, sure.” 

“thank you, y/n. i don’t know what i’d do without you.” 

“no problem, rubes. i’ll text you when i have your stuff.” 

you hang up, but you don’t get out of bed right away. you love ruby, but sometimes it takes so much effort to do so. you don’t know why or how you’re always stuck in this cycle between her and jay. you’re always the mediator, the shoulder to cry on. just so that the cycle restarts an hour later, like it never ended in the first place. 

you tell yourself that you’re just doing ruby a favour, but you know the favour will never be reciprocated and that it’s not just one favour. it’s like you’ve been doing her favours constantly for years. you want to tell her how you feel, but you don’t do confrontation. and you’re sure ruby will take it as an insult either way. 

so, like usual, you tell yourself that it’s fine and to not think about it. 

you go to jay’s apartment.

you’ve never been inside jay’s apartment building before, only outside of it when you pick up ruby or something. you hesitate before knocking on his door. you can’t tell if the reason you’re nervous is because you’ve never been here before or because you’re going to be alone with jay in his apartment. 

but, you’re here for ruby. and that’s it. 

the apartment door swings open before you can knock again. jay stands there, shirtless with a joint hanging from his lips. he leans against the doorframe with a slow and amuse smile on his face once he sees you. “what’s up, y/n?” his voice is casual, like all the other times he’s spoken to you. his gaze doesn’t leave you as it flickers over your entire body. 

you cross your arms as a reflex, “uh, ruby sent me to get her stuff.” 

his lips twitch like he wants to laugh, “of course she did.” 

it makes you wonder if he’s also realized that you do everything for ruby. if so, how many other people realize this? 

jay steps aside, nodding you in with the joint hanging loosely in his mouth. you step inside as he walks past you. his apartment smells like a mix of his cologne, the one that you helped ruby pick out for his birthday, and weed. his tv has a PAUSED screen on it from his video game. 

you watch as jay starts to move around his apartment, picking up things that belong to ruby that are scattered around. he doesn’t look at you, and you try not to look directly at him for too long. his back muscles flex as he bends over to pick up ruby’s phone charger. you pretend that it doesn’t make your stomach twist. 

“you know, you don’t have to do everything she says, right, y/n?” jay speaks, blowing out a stream of smoke. 

you feel your body tense at his words. “i know. she’s just tired today so.” 

he gives you a look like he knows you’re lying. because even though you and him aren’t extremely close, you both know ruby down to the very detail. 

jay shakes his head, “ruby’s such a fucking child. i can’t deal with her anymore. i’m the always the bad guy, but she’s the one who can’t keep her shit together.” jay’s honesty scares you. your first instinct is to defend ruby, she is your best friend after all. but a second part of you understands what jay is saying. 

“you’re not a bad guy, jay.” you surprise yourself with how quickly the words come out. “you made mistakes, but no one is perfect.” 

you can tell by jay’s expression that he’s also surprised at your response. but he looks away, picking up the last of ruby’s things from the kitchen table. he walks over to you, handing ruby’s handful of things over to you. he’s still shirtless, towering over you. he holds his joint in his index and middle finger. 

“you’re too nice for your own good, y/n.” 

you smile softly at him the best you can, avoiding eye contact with him now that he’s so close to you. you can feel tension growing inside of you, but you don’t know if it’s also growing within him. you are his ex girlfriend’s best friend after all. 

“you’re so different from ruby, ya know?” jay’s voice is deeper, his head tilted to the side with an amused smile on his face. 

“yeah, i know.”  you agree, trying to keep the conversation light. you don’t know where he’s going with this. you’ve never really had a conversation alone with jay before. 

“i like that.” 

your eyes widen at his statement. not expecting it at all. he only laughs at your reaction, stepping closer to you, taking a drag from his joint. his eyes scan you up and down as he exhales, blowing it out at the side of his mouth. 

“uh, thanks,” you manage to get out, your voice sounding like a squeak. it only makes his smile grow further. 

jay leans in even closer to you, making you back up against the front door behind you. you can smell the weed strongly now. he reaches over to the shelf beside you and puts out the rest of his joint in the ashtray. you stand frozen in your place. you’re trying to wrap your head around why your heart is beating so fast now. reminding yourself that this is jay standing in front of you. 

but the way that jay is looking at you right now. like he’s noticing all the small details about your face for the first time in his life, distracts you from anything else. 

“tell me to stop, y/n.” jay says, his voice lower and softer. his chest is almost brushing against yours he’s so close to you. his eyes are darkening and mischievous. his words hang in the air, challenging you to do something. 

it’s a challenge that you fail. 

jay’s lips crash against yours. it’s urgent and rough, like he’s been dying to do this forever. you hesitate for a second, trying to understand how your best friend’s ex is kissing you so harsh and desperate. like he’s starving for you. 

it’s only when jay’s hands cup your jaw, deepening the kiss that you relax and wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders. his body is hard and firm under your touch. it’s new but familiar all at once. it’s something that you’ve thought about more than once. the thought that you’re finally giving in to something that you’ve imagined over and over again throughout the years sends a rush of adrenaline down your core. 

jay’s lips guide yours, taking control, showing complete dominance over you. the wave of submission courses through you as you let his movements lead the way, like you’re chasing after him. 

jay starts to step back, keeping his lips attached to yours as he guides both of you to the couch behind him where you’ve sat with ruby and him before. he sits down, his hands grasping your hips as he pulls you down on top of him so you’re straddling him. 

“we shouldn’t be doing this,” you pull apart for a second, unable to keep your lips off of his for more than a second. 

“i know,” he mumbles back, keeping his eyes closed as he chases for your lips. 

you can’t help but feel like this is so wrong. you should have never gone to your best friends’ boyfriend's apartment. you knew it’d be dangerous, especially when jay is so vulnerable right now and you know you have no self control when it comes to him. 

but at the same time is feels so good to be touching him like this. you have thought about it one million times before, but always with the guilt that he was dating your best friend. now its different, they’re broke up and it’s oblivious that jay wants you just as much as you want him. you don’t have to hide your lust for him behind the mask of being his girlfriend's best friend. it’s like he finally sees you as more than that. you can tell by the way his hands are gripping your waist, guiding your hips to move overtop of his hard cock growing underneath his sweatpants. 

jay’s fingers hook underneath the bottom hem of your shirt, pausing against your skin, making the area burn against the contact. 

“can i?” jay asks, his eyes looking up into yours above him. his eyes are serious, yet pleading for you to say yes.

you blush at the eye contact and manage to nod in approval. trying to ignore how your hands start to shake on his shoulders from nervousness and adrenaline of excitement crashing together. 

jay continues to pull your shirt off your head and drops it on the living room floor. it leaves your chest completely bare to his eyes. he grabs your waist tightly, making it unable for you to move to cover yourself from the shyness that is creeping up your body. you’re unable to hide. his eyes scan your skin quickly like he’s in a hurry to remember every square inch of your body. you bit your lip in unsureness, trying to decipher what he’s thinking as he looks at you. 

he finally speaks, “you’re so fucking pretty, y/n.” 

your lip stuck between your teeth helps cover your growing smile at his compliment. jay has never looked at you or spoken to you like this before. like you’re y/n and not ruby’s best friend. he sees you as your own person. 

everytime you’ve hooked up with someone before, it’s been someone you’ve met through ruby. they’ve always rushed you, barely spoken to you and it always felt like they hooked up with you out of limited choice of other people to hook up with. 

and you can never forget the time you were hooking up with jaehyuk in the year above you and he moaned ruby whilst he came inside of you. the worst part is, he didn’t even realize he had done it. he just pulled out, put his pants back on and high fived you before he left you in the random bedroom at the party. 

since then, you’ve been more aware and weary of what you hook up with, especially the ones you’ve been hooked up with through ruby. you feel like you’re just always seen as since ruby is unavailable, you’re the second best option since you’re her best friend. you always feel like you’re ruby’s shadow, like you’re not your own person with your own feelings and opinions. 

but now, on top of jay, with his eyes on your skin and voice in your ear, it feels different. you feel seen for once. like he wants you and only you. and not because you’re ruby’s best friend, not because you were just there and available. 

jay leans in and kisses your collarbone, his tongue darting across it. his lips suckle against it, leaving a dark red mark that (you hope) will bruise later. he takes his time, his tongue trailing slowly across your chest. he’s teasing you as he gets closer to the sensitive skin along your breasts. he licks right beside your nipple, loving the way you mewl in dissatisfaction from his teasing. you can feel his lips form a smile against your skin. 

when his finally wraps his lips around your pink bud and sucks harshly on it you gasp softly. your hands tighten around his head to keep him close as his own hands tease your spine, gently rubbing up and down the indent. he nibbles on your nipple gently with his teeth. your hips are still circling above his crotch, you can feel him hardening even more at your audible reactions to his movements. 

jay pulls away, his arms wrapping around your waist as he stands up. your wrap your legs around his waist in shock, your eyes wide as you stare down at him. he keeps a cocky grin on his face as he starts to walk to his bedroom with you in the air. 

“just trust me, i got you.” he tells you earnestly, chuckling under his breath as your reaction. 

jay lays you down onto his bed, your head landing in his pillows. you try to ignore the questioning thought of how many times ruby’s head has been in your exact position before. 

jay takes his time with you. slowly kissing down your bare chest and stomach. his hands roaming every part of your body he can reach. when he gets to your jeans he unbuttons them and your panties down your legs. 

you can tell that jay is confident and experienced, a bit cocky. even though you’ve never been together like this before, he still acts like he knows exactly what makes you feel good. like you’ve told him yourself. he doesn’t hesitate with any of his actions, thus his head is in between your legs with no further thought. 

jay’s tongue delves into your pussy, lapping up your juices, wanting to taste you so badly. you can’t help but moan out at the first touch of his tongue. it had been so long since a man has properly tasted your core. you can tell that jay knows exactly what he is doing and it amazes you. you had thought that no one could ever make you feel good with their tongue, that it was something that only seemingly happened in porn. but with jay, it was different. 

your hands grip the sheets underneath you, needing to steady yourself as you prepared for jay’s tongue to start switching between darting in and out of your hole and circling your clit. he keeps his hands on your hips, pinning them down to try to stop you from bucking up into his mouth. you keep your head up on your shoulders, looking down at him as he works his tongue all over your pussy. you moan as he keeps his eyes on you, wanting to catch every single reaction you make to his movements. 

everything he was doing felt new to you. it leaves you uncertain of where this was all going. you’ve never felt this good from someone else before. you’ve never been touched with care. part of it makes you nervous as you don’t know where this is going. like maybe everything will just fall apart in a second. but you don’t want jay to stop. 

jay slips two of his fingers inside of you, immediately curling them to find your gspot. you gasp out, eyes widening as he manages to increase the amount of pleasure you were feeling. “oh god,” you mumble out weakly, your lip getting stuck between your teeth. you feel jay smiles against your wet pussy, your juices and his salvia mixing on your pussy and his lower face. his chin was already a mess from how deep and passionate he was eating you out. 

jay’s fingers create a pace, making sure to curl them perfectly to his your gspot everytime he pushed them back into your tightening walls. both of you knew it wouldn’t take much longer for you to cum. and although you were embarrassed at the realization, jay was even more turned on by it. his hips started grinding more into his mattress below him, trying to relieve himself a bit underneath his usually loose sweatpants, but now were suffocatingly tight. 

“just cum, y/n, please,” jay begs you from his spot between your legs, “i wanna feel you cum on my face so bad,” his eyebrows are pulled together, desperate as he pleads for you to cum, “wanna taste you even more, all of your juices.” 

“f-fuck,” you stutter out, your jaw becoming slack as you allow the pleasure to fully consume you now. jay can tell you’re finally coming undone when your walls spasm around his fingers, your hips buck up to still against his face, letting him suck on your clit harshly through your orgasm. your head is thrown back into his pillow. you feel almost helpless as you lay there, your body frozen as your orgasm hits you hard as hell. you can’t even push jay’s head away when his tongue starts to overstimulate you. 

when he feels like he’s drank every last drop that your pussy would give him, he presses a kiss onto your shaking thigh and pushes himself up so he’s hovering over top of you. he stares down at you, right into your eyes as you try to catch your breath and relax from your orgasm. 

jay doesn’t say anything as he leans down and makes your lips meet his. your eyes close as you kiss him back. you hum at the taste of yourself on his lips. he pushes his tongue into your mouth, exploring it as your hands wrap around his shoulders to keep his lips against yours for longer. his kiss feels addicting as you follow his lead, liking how easily he can take control and guide you with your lack of experience. 

jay roughly pushes his lips off of yours, his hand taking a grasp of your jaw, forcing you to stop. you look up at him through your lashes, chest still heaving from the lack of oxygen being provided from your orgasm and his kiss. jay’s thumb brushes against your bottom lip, swiping away some of the saliva you had mixed together. he smirks down at you, obviously catching the submissive glimpse in your eye as you look back at him, “you wanna keep going?” 

breathlessly you answer, “yes,” you nod with his hand still taking your chin captive, “please.” 

jay’s smirk only seems to widen mischievously, “good girl.” 

he takes his hand off of your chin and instead starts to pull off the grey sweatpants he wore oh, so loosely on his dainty hips. his pants are off and thrown on the messy floor of his bedroom in a second, but you don’t look where exactly they are thrown to. you can only stare at jay’s hard cock finally being revealed to your eyes. you mean, ruby has shown you pictures years ago when they had first gotten together, but that didn’t count. jay was now physically in front of you with his cock hard just for you, wanting to be inside of you. the thought had your thighs rubbing together. jay catches the  movement, chuckling deeply as he places a warm hand onto your bare knee and prying your legs back open. 

jay easily, almost perfectly, slides himself in between your legs, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. jay starts to rub his cock up and down your slick, wet folds. he collects all of your juices and his saliva onto his cock., lubricating it to push it deep inside of you. when the red tip of his cock rubs against your clit it has you mewling out from the need and sensitivity. you feel like walls clench around nothing, just the thought of jay finally being inside of you. 

“ready?” jay confirms, his eyes staring right into yours again. you can barely look at him, almost shy again now that his cock was a milimeter away from pushing inside of you, stretching your walls. 

“yes,” your voice is weak and feeble when you answer. you feel embarrassed almost, but you know he doesn’t know why. he probably thinks you’re shy because you’re bare in front of him. he doesn’t know that what is happening right now is a situation where you have thought of multiple times before and now that it’s real, it’s making you blush. you know that he’s probably never thought of you in this position with him before, but you don’t seem to mind as jay finally pushes his cock inside of you. 

jay goes slow, his tip that is dripping with precum slides in first and he stops once it’s fully in. you try to calm your breathing at the stretch of only his tip entering. jay keeps his eyes on you the entire time, his one hand resting on your knee whilst the other stays gripping his cock, pushing it further, in so slowly, so gently. like he’s afraid he’s going to hurt you. it’s the most caring anyone has ever been with you and he’s barely even started. 

within a minute, jay has slowly pushed himself into you. your hips are pressed against each other. your legs are spread so your clit is exposed to his eyes, rubbing against his lower abdomen. jay watches your face the entire time, not wanting to cause you any discomfort, but once he’s fully inside he can’t help but groan out and drops his head into your shoulder. 

“fuck, you feel unreal, y/n,” jay grumbles against your skin, his voice directly into your ear as he lays on top of you. he’s careful to not move his hips in any sudden way. he lets both of you get used to the stretch his cock has on your tight walls. you know you’ll be repeating the way his voice is so raspy and already out of breath as he says your name over and over again after this is done. 

jay presses his lips into the crook of your neck and shoulder before he pushes himself back up onto his elbows, trapping your head in between, forcing you to look up at him. 

he keeps his eyes on you as he slowly pulls himself out of you, keeping just his tip in. you gasp out, your back levitating off of the mattress behind you as his cock seems to glide against every spot inside of you that makes you feel good. when he slides back in, his cock hits your g spot, making you whimper out. 

your chests are pushed together as jay starts to create a pace. he steadily keeps the pace, your legs still wrapping around his waist. you find it hard to look back at him as he’s looking at you. you feel so exposed underneath his gaze. like he can read your mind perfectly. like he’ll realize that maybe this means more to than it does to him. 

because you know that neither of you should be doing this, but you shouldn’t especially. though you and jay are supposed to be loyal to ruby, you have more reasons than jay to not be doing this. because this means nothing to him, and both of you know that. but you know that there is a deep, suppressed feeling in your chest towards jay that you force yourself to not think about. that when you look at jay there’s a certain twinkle in your eye that you’re afraid he’ll see as he lays on top of you, his cock delved deep inside of you. 

jay huffs as he sits up on his knees, his hands moving from above your head to your hips. your legs stay glued to his hips, not wanting him to escape you, as if your legs will keep him there forever. his bangs fall into his face as he stares down at you. 

“tell me if it’s too much, ‘kay?” his voice is deeper now, the lust taking over. 

“okay.” 

jay slides his hips away from yours, his cock almost leaving your needy hole before he slams back inside of you. your whole body jerks up towards your bed. your moan mixes with jay’s in his bedroom. both of you were tired of his slow, gentle thrusts that had only turned into teasing the more your walls tightened around him, the more his cock swelled every time it hit your cervix. 

jay’s grip on your waist tightens as he starts to pick up his pace. he’s moving quicker now, slamming his hips against yours every single time. your hands fly above your head, gripping the headboard above your head to prevent you from hitting your head. he’s fucking into you so hard you think your core will be bruised in the morning. but you don’t mind. 

no you don’t mind at all. if it gives you a mark that will let you remember that this is really happening and not some figment of your imagination then you wouldn’t mind. if it’s jay giving you marks on your body that prove he has touched you in a way you could’ve only dreamt of before now then you wouldn’t mind. 

your hands cover your face as you try to hide your moans and expressions. it’s almost diabolical how good jay is making you feel and it hasn’t even been that long that he’s been inside of you. you’re sure jay can tell you’re inexperienced, he’s probably even heard stories about you from ruby. you think he’s been around more than once when you and ruby have even talked about the lack of hookups you’ve had. but right now you don’t want him to think about that. 

suddenly, jay’s warm hand wraps around both of your wrists, pushing them over your head. he pins them to the mattress below, not letting you move them. he traps you there, with your hands over your head and eyes widened as you can look nowhere but at him. 

“don’t do that,” he shakes his head at you, his thrusts still not stopping. “let me see you, please, look at me, baby.” 

the nickname sends an electric shock down your body, making your walls clench tighter around him. you’re sure he can tell by the way his jaw drops as he continues to thrust, his eyes staring right into yours. you want to hide, mask yourself from him, but he makes it so hard. 

“please,” he begs you, his voice desperate and deep.

“o-okay.” 

jay smiles at you, leaning down and kissing you. the kiss is soft and gentle compared to how hard and fast he’s thrusting into you at the same time. you can’t help but moan into his mouth, muffled by his tongue meeting yours and circling it. his taste is becoming familiar to you too, now. 

jay pulls away, sitting back up, leaving your hands as he grabs your waist with both hands again. your hands fly to his forearms, wanting to get as much as his touch as you can. jay doesn’t say anything, just keeps grunting as he thrusts into you. 

unlike any of the other guys you’ve been with, jay keeps his eyes on you. his pleas of looking at him keep your eyes on him. you wanted to please him as much as you can. so even though you’re worried he’ll be able to tell you see more in this situation than he does, you keep your eyes open and on him. 

jay’s fingers land on your clit, rubbing the bud in fast circles, adding to the pleasure that was growing in the pit of your stomach. your grip tenses around his forearms from the pleasure. your back arching off the bed uncontrollably. 

“fuck, you’re so sensitive,” jay mumbles as he watches your body fumble around below him. you whine in response out of embarrassment and lust and need all at once. jay laughs through his breathless thrusts, “it’s hot, don’t worry.” 

“you’re hot.” you can’t help but reply. and you blame it on the orgasm that’s quickly building inside of you, because you know that you’re usual self would not dare to speak that, even though you’ve thought it since the first day you had seen him. when ruby had brought him over to introduce you to him in the university cafeteria. his hair was shorter back then and he was less muscular than he is now. but you still found him drool worthy. you remember him sticking his hand out to you, shaking your hand as ruby introduced you to him as her “best friend for life”. but you couldn’t stop staring into his deep brown eyes that were turned into a smile. 

jay chuckles at your statement, it’s something he already knows— and he knows that if it wasn’t for his cock hitting your g spot over and over again, you would have never told him. 

“i wanna cum inside of you,” 

a wave of electric pleasure soars through you, your walls tightening more as your body squirms below him, “please, please.” 

jay’s jaw drops again and his eyes close for a second as he takes in your wet walls enclosing around him, literally suctioning him in, tempting him to cum inside of you right this instance. 

“fuck, okay,” jay nods at you, eyes meeting yours. their colour is darker now compared to when you first met him in freshman year. they’re filled with lust and need as he rubs your clit in faster circles with his three fingers. “i want you to cum with me, you think you can do that?” 

“yes, yes, god.” you nod against the mattress, your hair becoming a mess because of all your squirming. 

if you weren’t so close to cumming on jay park’s cock you would be embarrassed by how fucking needy and desperate you sound. 

jay starts to fuck his dick into your harder and harder. his bedroom is filled with your moans and his grunts and the almost disgusting, wet sound of your bodies meeting together. your entire inner thighs are leaking and drenched and spreading all over his lower abdomen. neither of you can care at this point, loving the mess it takes to get this close to cumming so hard. 

“beg for my cum,” jay grunts out, his voice the deepest you’ve ever heard it. you can tell he’s just as close as reaching his orgasm as you are. 

you swallow harshly, “i want your cum so bad, jay, please.” your eyebrows are pushed together, like a puppy-dog as you look up at him. “please cum in me— i wanna feel your warm cum inside of me so bad.” 

“oh, fuck,” jay’s stomach jerks harshly in and out, his thrusts not stopping as he fucks into you. you can feel his dick start to twitch inside of you. he still keeps his eyes on you, soaking up the lust yours are packed with. 

“fill me up, jay.” your voice is like a whisper, but it’s all it takes for jay to finally hit his high. 

“fuck, fuck, cum with me, baby, please, please,” jay’s voice is anguished as he begs, his cum starting to spurt out of his cock, painting your walls with white. 

jay’s cock twitching over and over again inside of you and his fingers sloppily rubbing your clit push you to the edge. but the pet name that spills from his lips fully pushes you over. your orgasm hitting just a second after jay begs for you to cum. your moans meet his as your eyes stay glued to each other’s. you can see the pleasure take over his entire face as he lets go inside of you. he does what you begged of him and fills you up with his warm cum. your walls pulsating around him as more of your juices slide around his cock make his orgasm last longer, which he isn’t disappointed with. 

when the final spurt of cum and wave of pleasure washes over jay he plops down on top of you, his cock still lodged inside of you. he lays his head into the crook of your neck and shoulder. you can feel his heavy breath against your neck as he comes down from his high. every few seconds you can feel his cock twitch inside of you still, from the left over pleasure that is coursing through not only his veins, but yours as well. 

neither of you try to move, besides jay’s thumb lazily circling your bare hip bone, soothing you from your orgasm. you’re left staring up at his ceiling, chest still panting, smelling jay’s cologne with a mix of sweat and weed. 

there’s a fluttering feeling in your chest that scares you, but you’re too physically tired to do anything about it. that was the hardest you’ve ever come in your life. it had just ended, yet you’re already trying to replay the entire event in your mind. you don’t want to forget a single detail and you aren’t sure— no, you know,this won’t and shouldn’t happen again. 

you remind yourself that this isn’t romantic. this is chaotic and messy and so utterly selfish it should make you sick. but you don’t move, you stay put underneath jay, under your best friend’s ex boyfriend. you don’t want to move. 

when you wake up in the morning you don’t know where you are for a second. you look around the room, trying to figure out why your bedroom looks so weird. it’s only when your foot hits something next to you that you remember where you are. 

your eyes scan beside you, the white sheet draped over jay’s still naked body as his eyes are closed with his head against the pillow right beside yours. his black bangs are hanging over his forehead, covering the tanned skin that sweat droplets fell from only a few hours before. 

when you laid down last night it was dark out, but now there is clearly sun peeking through jay’s white curtains. you reach over to the nightstand, grabbing your phone and audibly gasping when you see the time. 

fuck. 

you had class in an hour and still had to bring ruby her bag of shit she wanted from jay. the whole reason you even came to his apartment was for your best friend. and now you’re leaving with more reasons to stay away from jay than you had come here with. 

you throw the sheet off your body, your eyes widening when you see that you’re still naked as well. you stand up, trying to remember where your clothes had been. you pick up pieces of clothing from his bedroom floor all the way to the living room, where the PAUSED screen of his video game is still flickering on the tv. you pull back on your shirt and skirt, trying to find where jay had put your shoes. 

“leaving already?” 

you gasp as you turn around, facing his bedroom door where jay leans against the door frame. he has his grey sweatpants back on again, still loose around his hips. you gulp when you remember what is right below them, and how you’ve felt him inside of you, all over you. the memories from last night slamming you at full force now that he stands directly in front of you. your mind starts spiraling as jay just lights a joint in front of you. when he exhales, your eye contact breaks through the grey smoke. 

“um,” you shake your head, trying to get yourself to focus on anything but his toned muscles, “do you know where my shoes are?” 

with the joint in his mouth, jay’s eyes widen in recognition and nods towards the couch, “under the coffee table.” 

you follow and pull out your sneakers, fumbling to slip them on your feet with urgency. you suddenly wanted to leave just as quickly as you wanted to the night before… before jay had persuaded you to stay. saying nothing, you grab the bag of ruby’s stuff and head to the door. 

“y/n,” he calls your name when your hand grips the doorknob. you don’t let go of it as you look over your shoulder at him. he’s still in his place at the bedroom door. he shrugs when he speaks, “don’t overthink it.” 

you stare at each other, and to anyone else it would seem expressionless, meaningless, but you both know what you’re thinking as you look into each other’s eyes: don’t tell ruby.

you pull open his apartment door and slam it behind you, like that would stop anything from following you out.

ruby doesn’t question you much on why you hadn’t answered her texts the night before, which you were relieved for. she was more concerned with what jay had said to you when you showed up and asked for her stuff. if he had told you he missed her, if he was crying, if it smelt like a perfume in his apartment that wasn’t hers. you hoped she hadn’t picked up on your nervous tapping on your desk when she asked the last question. 

when ruby had finally run out of questions about jay she sat back in her seat, pouting as she crossed her arms over her chest. although she had told you she had spent the entire night crying about jay, she looked like she had slept a peaceful nine hours. her makeup and hair looked pristine as always. you, on the other hand, looked like you had been through a trainwreck. your hair felt like it was a knotted mess and you were still wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday. you would so kill for a coffee right now. 

“so, what were you up to last night?” lena looks over at you from her slouched position. the classroom had started to fill with other students, the professor yet to show up. 

you can’t help but basically give yourself whiplash as you turn your head to look at your best friend. your arms instinctively wrap around your body, like you can hide behind them. “um, not much. why?” 

ruby tilts her head at you to be honest, her nose wrinkling upwards, “because it looks like you haven’t showered in a week.” 

your mouth opens to speak, to say literally anything to explain to her about why you look like this. to say any words except for jay. but unfortunately, that’s the only word running circles in your head since an hour ago when you woke up naked beside him in his bed. 

ruby sighs, “please don’t tell me you spent all night on that anthropology paper! i told you to chill out about it, it’s not due for another month!” 

ease washes over you, too much for your liking. you don’t like feeling like this infront of ruby. she was supposed to be your best friend and now it’s like you have to watch everything you say to not let it slip what mistake you had made the night before. 

you sheepishly smile at her, “maybe.” 

ruby rolls her eyes, sitting up now with a playful smile on her lips. “you work too hard.” she shakes her head, “at least put the rat nest of a hair up.” she slips off a scrunchie she had on her wrist, handing it to you. you keep that guilty, sheepish smile on your face as you take it, reaching up to put your hair into a ponytail. 

“oh my god!”

your hands drop to your side at once, “what?” 

“what’s that on your neck?” ruby reaches over and bends your neck so she can see better in the dim classroom lighting, “is that a fucking hickey?” 

your hands fly up to cover the general area she was looking at, brushing her hands off of you. “what? no!” 

ruby’s jaw drops as she looks at you, her eyebrows pulled together in shock, “y/n, that’s a fucking hickey you liar!” 

you stare at your best friend, eyes circling her face as you try to read her expression, trying to think of anything it can be besides a hickey. your hands start to sweat, you can feel it against your neck where they try to hide the bruise that jay had apparently left the night before. you knew you should’ve looked in the mirror before coming straight to school. you thought it would’ve been suspicious to ruby if you were late to class for once. you now realize that this was much worse. 

you feel paralyzed as you stare at ruby, not knowing what to do or say in this situation. you had only hooked up with jay less than twelve hours ago and ruby had already figured it out. you were so fucked, oh my god your friendship is so completely ruin—

“you have a secret crush,” ruby’s face contorts into amusement, her shoulder coming to nudge you, “oh my god, he had you up all night didn’t he?” 

your arms wrap harder around yourself, trying to get yourself to calm down. another crisis adverted. 

“ruby,” you shake your head, turning away from her to sit forward and face the front. your professor had finally come to class, apologizing for being so late today. something about traffic but you couldn’t hear properly with your heartbeat pounding in your ears and ruby leaning over the desk to stare right at you. 

“who is it? come on, tell me! please!” 

“it’s no one ruby, it’s done. it won’t happen again.” you tell her, and it's the full truth you’ve told her all morning. 

ruby doesn’t like your answer, pouting and slouching back into her seat as she stares straight ahead at the professor setting up the powerpoint for the lecture today. the lights turn off in the classroom, the only light being the projector. 

“it’s fine i guess,” ruby mumbles, quieter now as the professor begins to introduce the topic for the day. “at least i don’t have to find people to hook up with you, now that you can do it on your own.” 

you glance over at ruby, her face is expressionless as she stares straight ahead. when she meets your gaze a smile spreads on her face which you mirror and then turn to focus on opening your notebook. 

ruby’s words sit with you for the rest of the day. like it had been some awful burden to her to find someone to hook up with you. like you had begged her to do. like it was so hard to find some desperate guy to hook up with poor y/n. even though you know it's wrong, you can’t help but picture ruby’s face if she found out what had really happened last night.

ruby and jay’s “disagreements” (what ruby calls their fights) usually only last a few days before their tongues are down each other’s throats again and you’re struggling to get a second of ruby’s attention. but this time, it’s been a week since jay had stormed out of the party and given ruby all her shit back. 

if you hadn’t hooked up with jay a week ago, you wouldn’t be so worried. you know ruby is slowly transcending into an emotional hurricane by the second. one minute she’s laughing saying she’s a “free woman” and then the next she’s crying on your lap asking you what she had done wrong. 

the worst part is that you think ruby is picking up on your anxiety. she keeps looking at you with her pleading eyes to tell her the “truth”— that jay will call her back and he’s just being petty right now, but you can tell she sees right through your reassurance. 

ruby was always such an emotional chaotic mess that she needed your stability. you needed to hold her still. and you didn’t mind doing it, but now that that stability is wary it’s only creating an even worse feeling for the both of you.  

you don’t like lying to your best friend, but you can’t help but feel like the moment you had with jay the week before was the first and only time someone had seen you for yourself. like you didn’t need to be with ruby in order for someone to even briefly glance at you. like you had a voice of your own. 

it made you question your entire decade long friendship with ruby more than you ever had in your life. it scared you but the feeling in your chest like you were hiding something grew bigger every day, and it wasn’t just because you were hiding the fact that you hooked up with jay. it was because you felt like you were hiding a part of yourself from everyone. a part of yourself that you felt like you consciously suppressed in order to let ruby shine. 

but the thing was, you realize now that you wanted to shine too. 

today was monday, which meant that ruby, the only one in your friendship that had a car, had cheerleading practice. it usually wasn’t a problem for you, even though you would have to constantly hear about how sore her legs were afterwards. but today, it was raining as soon as you stepped foot outside your university’s doors. the pavement was already a dark grey from how long and hard it had been raining. 

you have no other option but to put your headphones on and start walking home since your other, more dry option was at cheerleading practice for another hour and a half. 

it didn’t take long for your hair to become drenched and stick to your face. you could feel your socks becoming little puddles in your shoes with every step and you hadn’t even properly made it off of school property. 

car headlights turn the corner behind you and when you glance over you see a familiar black bmw pull up the curb beside you. it felt like a punch in the chest when the window rolled down to reveal the face that you had thought about every single day this past week. his eyebrows were furrowed in concern as he shouts at you, “what are you doing?” 

it takes a second for you to realize that you’re not dreaming, that jay is actually in front of you, “walking.” you sound dumb, like you have never spoken to someone before in your entire life. 

you see him roll his eyes through the harsh rain, “get in.” 

your body starts to walk before your mind is aware, almost drawn to him subconsciously, or you just really wanted to get out of the rain. 

you hop in the passenger seat of the car that you’ve been in before. jay has picked you and ruby up to go to a party or some other thing multiple times before. but you had always sat in the back, watching him and your best friend either hold hands over the centre console or fight until they're both red in the face as you pull up to the destination. it was like you were in ruby’s territory— again.

now that it was just you and jay in the car, it was definitely the most quiet it’s been in here with him. 

jay’s dry laugh distracts you from the silent comparing, “you’re fucking drenched.” he reaches over to blast the heat, turning all the vents towards you. “do you want to get pneumonia or?” 

“no, of course not. ruby’s just at cheer so, i didn’t really have a choice.” you explain yourself, but you catch the way jay’s whole body tenses at the mention of your best friends’ name. jay turns his eyes to face the road again and his amused smirk drops from his face. 

“so, you going home?” 

“yeah,” you nod and jay takes his foot off the break, pulling away from the curb in the pouring rain. the windshield wipers are working at a fast pace and the heat blasting is working overtime to keep you from catching a cold. you can still feel droplets of rain falling from the strands of your hair onto your hands. 

the sound of the rain relentlessly hitting the car and the heater blasting is enough to make it less awkward than it should be in the car with him. you feel almost pathetic. you had thought about him all week— all the things you wished you could’ve said to him the last time you had seen him. but now, that you’re actually with him in his car— alone, you’re silent. all you can think about really is how loud and fast your heartbeat is going. you hope he doesn’t hear it. 

you hope that he just assumes that you’re sick, like the rain had actually gotten to you and has given you a cardiac emergency and that’s why your chest feels like it’s about to explode. that the feeling is definitely from that and not the fact that he’s so close to you right now.  

“why haven’t you texted ruby, yet?” you speak before you can stop yourself. 

jay scoffs, “i have nothing to say to her,” he turns his head to look at you, his eyes serious and steady, “and i don’t want to talk about her. especially not when i’m with you.” 

your head snaps to look out the passenger side window, like the rain droplets covering the entire window have somehow become more interesting to look at than jay. you hope it hides the fact that your eyes widened almost cartoon-like at his words. what does he mean by that? though, you do agree with him. you don’t want to talk about your best friend when you’re with him. it feels wrong but so good at the same time. you want to stay here just a bit longer to figure out what is the right thing here— the good thing. 

in your peripheral vision you can see jay glance over you once, and then twice before he speaks, “you know,” he starts in his usual confident tone, the one that you wish you had, “you don’t have to do all that, good girl, shit with me.” he says “good girl” like it tastes bad in his mouth to say. like he’s repulsed. 

you look at him, keeping your face expressionless as some defense mechanism. 

“you don’t have to pretend, just be you.” 

“what?” 

jay narrows his eyes, “you know what i’m talking about, y/n.” 

it’s your turn to go stiff. is it really that obvious how you feel? then why is jay the only person to ever be able to really tell what you’re feeling? without even saying anything he knows what you’re thinking. he sees right through you. it scares you to be honest. how long has he been able to do this? 

“you make it sound like it’s so easy,” you place your palms flat against your soaking wet jeans, trying to distract yourself— letting the sweat that piled up in them soak into the rain stained fabric. 

jay cocks his head, confusion obvious on his face, “because it is?” his voice comes out slow, like he’s trying to process your words still, trying to understand you. you keep your gaze fixated on the window beside you. your lack of response makes him scoff. “you don’t have to pretend with me, y/n.” 

you hate that everytime he says your name a shock spirals down your spine. you wish that you could so easily not pretend with him. like you could rip off that mask you put on when you’re around everyone else— the mask that you weren’t even properly aware of until recently. yet, jay seems like he’s known of that mask forever. he knows that you’ve been shrinking yourself to fit into ruby’s shadow. but he must understand that it’s hard when you’ve spent your entire life doing that— being the calm and reasonable one to the girl that’s known as a chaotic, out of control mess that’s always the centre of attention. you swallow harshly at the thought of being unmasked around jay— like maybe he won’t even like you as much as he thinks he does. 

before you can mentally spiral more, jay is pulling up the curb outside of your apartment building. part of you is relieved to get out of this car where you feel so exposed, but the other part is wishing you’d do what jay is telling you to— to be yourself, to stay in this car longer like you really want to. 

you glance at jay briefly before your fingers wrap around the car door handle, ready to push it open and jump out. 

“why do you always look at me like you’re trying to not want me?” 

jay’s voice stops you, your body frozen as you face away from him, completely turned to the passenger side door to get out of here. but his words hit you like a truck— because it’s true and no one has actually voiced a thought you had thought about so many times before. you take a deep breath and turn your head over your shoulder to face him, still trying to keep your face expressionless, as if that’s gonna deter him in any way. 

jay’s hand lands on top of yours that’s resting on the centre console, like his hand is going to keep you there for longer. “if you want me y/n, then say it. show me who you are, what you really want.” 

your heart literally feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. you want to say it so bad— that you do want him, and that you’ve wanted him for a while, even if that makes you a terrible friend. your fingers twitch under his hand, thinking about what you should do. what would you really do in this situation? 

fuck it. 

before you can mentally talk yourself out of it and hide in the shell that you’ve created for yourself, you lean over the centre console and push your lips onto jay’s. he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back. his lips latch onto yours and pull you closer to him. your hand drops from the car handle, turning your entire body to him. jay doesn’t think twice about slipping his hands under your sweater, cupping your breasts. he doesn’t mind that your skin is cold and wet against him. you’re body is chasing his to get warm and to feel like you’re understood and seen, if only for a few minutes. 

“take off your pants,” jay speaks against your lips, pulling away for a second to look at you before he smashes his lips back onto yours. “now.” 

you kiss him more time before you practically force yourself to stop. your hands shake with anticipation as you unbutton your rain-soaked pants and slide them off your legs onto the car floor. jay helps you take off your heavy and wet sweater, tossing it on the floor with your pants into one soggy pile that neither of you can care about right now. 

“want your lips on my cock,” jay confesses, almost desperate as his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, already swollen from kissing him. 

without thinking twice, your hands reach down to his jeans, unbuttoning them quickly. you hear him chuckle dryly as he watches your hands move swiftly, wanting to free his cock just as much as he wanted you to. 

you pull his warm cock out of his pants, the veins starting to protrude as his cock hardens. 

“spit on it,” he tells you, pushing your head down over his cock. you do as he says, pursing your lips to let a glob of spit land right onto his cock. he hisses at the feeling of it. jay wraps his hand around his cock, keeping his eyes on you as he starts to jerk it, using your spit and half naked body to get him hard enough for you to take him into your mouth. 

you get on your knees on the passenger seat to lean over jay’s lap to be able to fully get his cock stuffed into your mouth. jay glances around outside once to make sure no one’s around, but it’s dark out and it’s pouring rain and his tinted windows are enough for people to not see much of anything with this weather. 

you lean down and slide his cock into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat, causing jay to groan out at once as he stares down at where his cock disappears. you wrap your hand around the base of his cock that doesn’t fit into your mouth, making your hand work in sync with your mouth as you start to bob up and down. 

“fuck, that’s it.” jay groans above you. he grabs a handful of your hair in his hand, making a makeshift ponytail for you and him so he can get a better view of you. the car is filled with the faint sound of the heat running and slurping from your mouth working his cock in and out of your mouth. 

your lips suckle on his tip, making his hips buck up from the seat below him. you keep your eyes closed as you focus on making him feel good. you hollow your cheeks, letting the soft, inner skin of them massage around his cock as you shove the tip further and further into the back of your throat. 

“that’s good, oh god,” jay groans out above you. he brings his fingers to mouth, spitting on them before he reaches over behind you and pushes your panties to the side, wetting your pussy with his spit before he shoves two of his fingers inside you. you whimper around his cock at the sensation, making him buck up into your mouth again, wanting more of you. 

jay’s fingers start to slowly push in and out of your pussy, warming you up for his cock that he plans on stuffing you with soon. yet he doesn’t want to distract you from your mouth work on his cock. 

you keep bobbing your head up and down his cock, your spit covering his entire cock and dribbling down onto his balls. you’ve successfully gotten him hard and needy with every vein in his cock protruding. the top of his cock red and slick with not only your spit, but his pre cum that tastes like salt but sweet on your tongue. 

“fuck okay, get in the back.” jay pulls your head up off of his cock, letting go of your makeshift ponytail. you start to climb into the back seat, laughing when jay smacks your ass. jay crawls after you, sitting down on the seat and he pulls his jeans and boxers off of his legs before he pulls you over top of him to straddle him. your knees are on either side of his lap, resting on the leather seats of his bmw. 

you sit up on your knees, letting jay align his cock with your pussy, pushing your panties to the side again to make room. jay teases your weeping pussy with the head of his cock, gathering more of your juices to slide right in. he holds onto your waist as you slide yourself down onto his cock— both of you groaning out into the car as his cock reaches your cervix. your eyes roll to the back of your head as you take his cock at this angle. 

you move your hair out of your face before you lean over jay’s chest, keeping your head above his as you start to rock your hips back and forth. jay keeps his hands on your ass, squeezing the skin there as he helps you set a pace. 

“this good?” he asks you, wanting to make sure you were okay with this position. 

“god, yes,” 

jay smirks before he starts to lift you up over his cock before moving your hips back down, taking his cock fully back inside of you. he’s completely dominating, controlling when and how your hips move over his cock. like he’s using your pussy to get off. 

your hands land on the top of the car seat behind jay’s hand, holding yourself up so let jay use your pussy to make both of you feel good. he starts shoving you down his cock harder, the skin where your pussy and cock meet slapping and filling the car. your moans start to pick up the faster and harder he drops your hips back down over his cock. the tip of his cock jabbing your g spot every time from this angle. 

“fuck, wait,” jay gasps out as he keeps you still over his cock, holding your waist as he moves to lay sideways across the back car seats, using the door to keep him upright. you move to keep your feet against the seats now to hold you up instead of your bent knees. you’re hovering over him with his cock still lodged deep inside of you. “there, you have more room now.” 

you smile down at him sweetly before kissing him, your lips brushing against each other hungrily. jay keeps alternating his hands from your waist and ass, gripping your skin roughly. you start using the seat below your feet to help bounce yourself up and down on his cock. 

“oh god,” you moan out, your hand landing on the cool window by jay’s head. you find it hard to keep your lips off of jay’s. both of you moaning into each other’s mouths as you fuck yourself down onto his cock. 

your clit is rubbing against his lower abdomen every time you bounce and it only edges you on further, despite the burning feeling in your knees already. 

“fuck, that’s it,” jay encourages you, keeping his eyes locked onto you as he watches you bounce on his cock. his hand lands hard on your ass, making you squeal as you keep riding him. “show me how bad you can be, baby.” you moan out at his words, the burning in your stomach growing as you want to prove to him that you’re more than just a good girl— that you’re more than what ruby portrays you as. 

with the fuel that’s being added, you push back away from jay, your body and elbows landing onto the centre console behind you. your legs are wrapped around jay’s waist as he still sits on the backseat, but your body is laying back, using the centre console as a platform to hold your back up. 

jay groans as he grabs your waist, your pussy out on display for him now that your knees are bent and wrapped around his waist. he can see your folds glistening and wet and suctioning his cock in. your clit is enlarged and throbbing, just begging for him to do something about it. 

you push your shirt up so your breasts are revealed, your nipples perked and hard from the cold rain. jay doesn’t waste a second and reaches out, grabbing a hold of them. “fuck, i love your tits.” his voice is husky now as he stares right at them, massaging them in his hands, “most perfect tits i’ve ever seen.” you moan out, your hips rolling over his cock, wanting him to move. he smirks at your desperation, but does what you want. he starts to fuck his cock into you now having the perfect view of your pussy, tits and face. 

“oh god, that feels so good,” you groan out, your eyes rolling as his cock fills you up again and again. jay’s eyes can’t stay in one place for long, scanning all over your body as his hips slide back and forth. you’re on display for him in the backseat of his car where you’re his complete centre of attention. 

jay spits on his fingers again before he smears it on your clit, wetting it more so his thumb can rub perfect circles over it. “fuck!” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as jay increases the pleasure you’re feeling. 

“yeah, baby? you like this?” jay nods at you, “like being fucked in my car? where anyone walking past can see you.” 

“mm, yeah, i love it.” 

jay smirks down at you, “yeah? you want people to see you spread out for me, showing me your wet fucking pussy?”

“y-yes, god it’s so wet, jay.” 

“fuck, baby i know, i know,” jay grits his teeth as he focuses on the feeling of your wet walls squeezing around him, letting his cock fuck up into them, stretching them out. “only sluts get this wet at the thought of people seeing them. is that what you are? a slut?”

jay’s cock is fucking so far into you, his ass is above the seat so he can get his full cock into you every single time he thrusts forward. he keeps one hand on your nipple, squeezing and tweaking it whilst his other hand rubs circles into your clit. he’s working your entire body as your pussy fucking sucks him in, massaging his cock and milking him, just begging for him to cum. 

when you don’t answer his hand on your nipple smacks your face, making you look up at him, making eye contact with him. his and your eyes match— they’re both filled with lust and need and desperation. “answer me— are.” jay fucks hard into you with every word, “you. a fucking. slut?” 

“yes!” you cry out, “oh god yes! i’m a slut— just for you, i’m your fucking slut.” your elbows on the centre console drop as you lean your back and head back so your head is basically in the front seat again. your hands grab your breasts, massaging them and pinching your nipples so hard for the pleasure to shoot down your body. 

“oh fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” jay grunts out, his hands grabbing your waist, fucking into you harder and harder as he watches your hands play with yourself as your head stays thrown back on the centre console, completely consumed in the pleasure. 

jay leans over and spits directly onto your pussy, making you moan out at how easy his cock slips inside of you now mixed with his warm spit. your legs are completely spread for him, your one foot on the door whilst the other one is spread across the back seat. you look and feel like such a whore for him, just for him. 

he reaches over your body, your hands interlocking over your breast as your and his hands squeeze it together. it’s a sense of intimacy as you hold hands whilst he pounds into you. it only fuels the desire you have for him— to prove to him that you aren’t some good girl that might break. 

jay’s car is filled with both of your moans, feeding off of the pleasure you’re both giving each other. “fuck you’re pussy is so tight,” jay groans out, like it’s truly unbelievable how tight your pussy is wrapping around him. like it’s enticing him to fuck you hard and faster until you’re screaming out for him. 

“choke me,” you moan out, voice desperate and airy as you look up at him. 

jay does what you ask of him, his hand wrapping around your neck tightly, blocking your airway from breathing correctly. “like this, slut? you like it like this?” 

“y-yes,” you manage to moan out, your eyes locked with his as his hand is wrapped around your neck. 

jay groans out at the sight before him, “god you’re so hot,” 

you smile at him through the pleasure and the lack of air reaching your brain. you can only focus on jay right now. the way he’s panting and moaning as he fucks into you. the sweat that’s dripping around his head as the car gets warmer and warmer with both of your heavy breathing plus the heat is still on from when you first got into his car. the windows around you are fogged up, you can barely see outside of them. the air is filled with the smell of sweat and sex and jay’s cologne. 

“fuck, c’mere,” jay lets go of your neck and instead pulls you up against him by wrapping his hands around your back. he sits up against the back of the seat and wraps you around his lap so you’re straddling him again. your hands grab onto the head rest behind him as he presses you chest to chest with him. 

you whine when you feel his shirt’s fabric against your half naked chest, “take this off.” your hands pull on the bottom hem of his shirt. jay snickers under his breath but does what you want, pulling the shirt off of himself, leaving him completely naked underneath you. 

you don’t stop yourself from dragging your hands down his bare chest, warm and firm under your touch. you think back to all the times you had seen him shirtless, walking around ruby’s apartment or all the times you went to the beach together. how every time you saw him you wanted to rub your fingers over his skin, familiarize yourself with all his moles and textures. and now that you’re actually able to, you don’t know how you can ever not touch him. 

jay grips your wrists suddenly, pulling them back behind him so your arms wrapped around his neck and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug as he shifts his hips underneath you slightly, causing his cock to brush against your gspot again. before you can complain that he’s been still for too long, he starts to pull out of you just to pump back into you over and over again. he sets a steady pace, pushing his hips up from the seat so he can fuck up into you. 

your arms stay interlocked with one another around his neck, your forehead leaning onto his as he fucks you. you keep your eyes on his as he stares up at you. his usual light brown eyes are dark and slanted as he grimaces from the pleasure. 

jay keeps you tight against him, chest to chest, as he fucks you hard. you’re forced to stay still and take it. his bmw is filled with the sounds of your moans and skin slapping roughly. everytime he groans underneath you your pussy clamps harder around his cock, encouraging him to keep going. and jay doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. 

jay’s not an idiot. he’s been aware that you’re hot, but he’s been aware that you’re ruby’s best friend. which strictly meant off limits in the dating world. but now that he’s pretty much done with ruby right now and you’re more than ready to take his cock, he doesn’t care about rules. the way your pussy grips his cock is enough for him to not stop. 

jay unlocks you from his trapped hug, letting you have space between your bodies. he doesn’t waste a second before he’s leaning forward to wrap his lips around your breasts. he sucks on them and bites them, coating them in his saliva that leaves your skin cold from the air when he pulls away. 

“c’mon, keep going,” jay slaps your ass, “bounce on my cock like the whore you are.” 

you moan out in response but brace yourself on your knees as you start to bounce up and down on his cock. it feels so good and the pleasure has been boiling in your body and your need and lust for jay has been suppressed for so long that you start bouncing feverishly. you’ve wanted jay for so long, and you know it’s wrong but now that you’ve had him not only once, but twice… you don’t know how once this is over you will be able to stop yourself from going back for thirds. 

because jay obviously makes you feel physically good— his cock hits all the right spots inside you, his fingers rub circles on your clit that have you mewling out and his complete attention on you when you fuck has you spiraling. but jay also makes you feel seen. and that’s something that you’ve always wanted. being with jay feels different from being with anyone you’ve ever met. and that’s dangerous. 

you put both of your hands on his shoulders for leverage as you start to ride his cock faster. he keeps his hands on your waist to help hold you steady, his eyes are entrained on you as he watches you work your way up and down his cock. your hair is becoming a mess as you fuck yourself faster and faster on his cock. your jaw stays agape as you feel his cock slide in and out of you, your juices and his saliva making your core a complete mess. 

“shit,” jay moans out, his eyes looking down at where your bodies connect, watching you bounce on him so desperately. he knows you want him to feel good, that you’ll do anything for him to cum, and it only makes the knot in his stomach tighten more. “that’s it baby, ride me like that. ride your best friend’s ex until you cum.” 

“oh god,” your grip on his shoulders tightens at his mention of ruby. the guilt and shame you feel only add to the pleasure as you glide your pussy up and down his cock over and over again. there’s sweat dripping down your forehead in the cramped backseat of his car. 

jay’s hand meets your face, slapping you so you look at him. he grips your jaw, keeping your head still as his fingers sink into your cheek’s flesh that he just smacked, “you think people would still think you’re an innocent good girl if they saw you right now, hm?” jay’s voice is dark and husky when he speaks. “the way you’re so desperate to bounce on my cock?” 

“n-no,” you whine out, your hair half fallen into your face, sticking to your forehead from your sweat. 

“and why not?” 

“b-because i’m a slut.” 

jay’s hand slaps your face one more time, “that’s right, you’re a fucking slut.” 

before you can fully comprehend it, jay is pushing you off of his lap, his cock sliding out of you. he pushes you down onto the seat next to him, your face and chest flush on to the seat. he moves so he’s kneeling behind you, pulling your hips up in the air so your pussy and ass are on complete display for him. your ass is pink from his hands slapping and gripping the flesh. your pussy is stretched and agape as it tries to clamp down around nothing. 

“ah fuck, look at this pussy,” jay groans out as he reaches his fingers down to the flesh. you jolt as he touches your swollen and red lips, covered in your juices in a complete mess. “it’s so swollen, so needy and pathetic.” 

“mhm,” you nod your head against the leather seat as you look back over your shoulder at him. 

jay glances at your face, pulling his lips into a smirk, “yeah? you’re pathetic and needy for me? for my cock?” 

“yes, jay,” you’re quick to agree with him, because it’s true. “i need you so bad, please.” you wiggle your hips back, trying to get him to put his cock back inside of you. 

you hear him curse under his breath one more time before both of his hands come down onto your ass, making you jolt forward with a cry as he spanks you again. the pain only adds to the pleasure you feel in the pit of your stomach. 

before you can complain and beg for his cock again, jay forces his cock back into your hole. you’re so wet that it slides in so, so easily. he’s stretched you out perfectly. like his cock fits exactly in your pussy. 

jay grabs your waist from behind, holding you still as he starts to ram his cock in and out of you from behind. you put one of your hands on the car door above your head so you don’t hit your head. a cry escapes your lips as his cock starts to hit your gspot from a new angle. it feels even better somehow. 

everytime he slides his hard cock back into you his soaked balls slap against your clit. the noise your bodies make every time they meet is so ludicrous, straight out of a porno. 

“is this what you wanted, baby? for me to fuck you like the real slut you are?” jay asks from behind you, his voice rough as he demands an answer from you.

“f-fuck yes!” you cry back, your eyes straining to remain open as he fucks you harder and harder, your body jolting forward everytime his hips meet yours. 

“say it then,” jay’s hand hits your already red ass cheek again, “say you want to be fucked like a slut.” 

“i- i want to be fucked like a slut, like y-your slut.”

you hear jay groan at your words, his pace picking up speed as he drills his cock in and out of your sopping pussy. both of you can feel your warm walls start to become sporadic around his cock. your desperation for him showing as your pussy sucks him back in everytime he fucks back into you. it’s getting harder and harder for jay to even pull back out from how tight and warm and wet your walls are around him. it’s like truly heaven for him. 

“fuck, you’re such a whore for me,” jay groans out, “the way your pussy is fucking dripping, so fucking messy.” 

you can only moan harder in response, your lungs filling with pleasure as he fucks into you at just the perfect pace and intensity. it’s all you ever wanted from him. you can’t remember all of the times you’ve thought about him fucking you like this, rough and needy and risky. there’s so much on the line right now, if anyone walked too close to his car right now, if ruby somehow found out. the risk only makes your pussy burn more for his cock. 

you can’t take it much longer anymore and you slip your hand in between your body and the car seat, your fingers landing on your swollen, wet clit and start rubbing circles on it, bringing yourself closer to the edge. you hear jay chuckle darkly behind you as he keeps up his drilling pace. he reaches over your back, his hand cupping the back of your neck so it’s pinned against the car seat below you, trapping your head from moving and decreasing the amount of oxygen to your brain once again. your eyes roll to the back of your head, the pleasure taking over your body everywhere with jay’s scent surrounding you. 

“yeah, that’s it,” jay’s voice is breathless by your ear as he hovers over your back, his chest pressed into you, “make yourself cum on my cock, baby, please,”

jay’s plead for you to cum sends you spiraling and it only takes a few more thrusts of his cock to send you over the edge, finally. you feel like you’ve been holding back your orgasm since he first slid his cock into you. that’s how much power he has over you. just a simple touch from jay can send one million shocks of pleasure through you at a time. 

your body felt like it was on fire as the orgasm ripped through you. your scream fills the car and you hope no one is walking out in the rain beside the car right now. your pussy clamps down tight around jay’s cock as you cum, getting wetter as your juices drip around his cock delved deep inside of you. 

“fuck, baby that’s it.” jay groans out as he feels your pussy around his sensitive cock. your pussy feels like velvet to him and he doesn’t know much longer he can last. 

with your body still shaking from adrenaline and pleasure, jay rips his cock out of you. your body is weak and limp and he rolls you over so you’re on your back and facing him. 

“please let me cum on your face, please baby,” jay’s eyes are pleading as his hand starts to stroke his cock fast, his cock soaked in your juices. 

“please,” you whimper out, mind still hazy but you sit up your elbows to watch him, “please cum jay, i want to taste your cum so bad.” your eyebrows are furrowed together as you look up at him. “make a mess of my face, please.” 

your begging for his cum is enough for him as he lets out a loud grunt before strings of warm, white cum come out of his red tip and land all over your face. there are strands by your lips, your cheek and one singular one on your forehead. you moan out at the feeling of his warm cum on your face. like he’s marked his territory on you. 

jay’s hand slows down it’s movements on his cock as no more cum comes out, his whole chest is heaving from his high. 

“oh fuck,” he grunts out. his body is weak but he leans down and presses his lips onto yours harshly for a quick second before pulling back to look at the mess he made on your face. “you look so hot.” 

you can’t help but giggle at his compliment. you feel wet and sticky and sore everywhere, but the way jay is looking at you keeps you awake and alert. no one has ever looked at you the way jay is looking at you right now. like you’re the centre of the universe to him. 

jay reaches out and swipes each strand of his cum off of your dewy skin before he tells you to “open”. he shoves his fingers of cum into your mouth. you wrap your lips around his fingers as you moan at the taste of his salty cum filling your mouth. your tongue circles his fingers, wanting to get every last drop of cum off of his fingers. 

when you’re done he takes them out of your mouth, keeping a soft smile on his lips before he leans back down over you, kissing you again. he moans into the kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. you let his tongue explore your mouth for a while even though your knees and ass cheeks are sore. if it means that you’ll be close to jay for longer than you don’t care about the pain. 

jay reaches to the floor of his car and picks up his shirt to wipe down your legs and core. you laugh when he wipes your face off of any remaining cum. it feels intimate and normal to laugh with each other whilst naked. 

jay fumbles around for an extra sweater he can put on and slips his jeans back on before he gives you your own clothes. he opens the backdoor and steps out into the rain for a second when you start fixing your shirt and pulling your jeans back on just to get in the driver's seat again. jay reaches over the centre console to pick up your bag and wet clothes before he tosses them to you in the back seat. 

“you good?” jay turns to the back to look at you, he has a light, amused look on his face. 

“yeah, i’m good.” you respond softly, pushing your messy hair behind your ear. 

jay smiles at you, “you should go, before someone sees.” 

his words make your fake world shatter as reality sets back in. that this isn’t the fantasy land where you’re dating jay and aren’t some little good girl that does everything ruby says. that everything that just happened in this car is just between you and jay. a secret. 

“okay,” you can’t help how weak your voice goes, physically drained from the sex but emotionally hurt. 

“i’ll text you,” jay nods, like he’s promising that he won’t forget you, and that there’ll be more. 

you repeat your soft okay, pulling your bag over your shoulder as you step out of the backseat and out into the rain that hasn’t calmed down since he parked. you close the car door gently, like you’re scared any loud movements would pull you out of your fantasyland even sooner. 

you lightly jog up to your building’s door, the rain cold on your arms. jay doesn’t wait for you to get inside, his car is already turning onto another street by the time you look back to the road. 

when you’re done showering, cleaning off all the substances off your body and warming up from the rain, you can’t help but think about jay. you stare at your blurry reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror as you brush your teeth. how long will this thing between you and jay last for? 

you spit and put your toothbrush down, leaning on the palms of your hands over the sink as you stare at yourself. your mind is becoming tangled with jay and you and ruby. you know that you shouldn’t want jay as much as you do, that if ruby ever found out… it would ruin the best friendship you’ve ever had. 

but jay is involved, too. you think jay must want you, too, even a little. it’s just does he want more than sex with you, or does he want exactly what you want? you want to call him yours, and no one else's. you want more than secret sex that is only kept between you two. 

it’s wrong to think of your best friend’s boyfri— ex boyfriend like this, and you know it. but you can’t help the feeling that rushes through you when you think about the way he says your name, or when he calls you baby. you can’t help that all your nerves in your skin feel like they’re on fire when he touches you. or that he makes you feel understood and real. he’s the only person in this world that makes you feel like you’re worth something more than just ruby’s shadow. 

and it just so happens that he’s ruby’s ex boyfriend… you hope it can stay just between you and jay, at least just for a while.

although you were a health science major and jay was in finance, you both managed to have classes in the same buildings at your university. jay used to walk you and ruby to your classes before going off to his. he used to hold the door for you and ruby, always pressing a kiss into her cheek as she followed you into the classroom. 

but now that it’s been two weeks since jay and ruby have spoken (a world record), it’s you holding the classroom door for a depressed ruby, whose shoulders are always slack as she plops down into her seat. ruby used to be like the campus’ ray of sunshine. you always found it hard to have a conversation with her in the hallways because people would always be cutting in to talk to ruby. everyone on campus knew her. but now, there was a dark grey storm cloud over her head that would deter people away from her. 

before, it ruby’s head would always be on the lookout for jay, trying to catch a glimpse of him in the hallways before class until he’d come up behind her and link his arms around her waist. you’d always avert your eyes to their pda. it always caused a sinking feeling in your stomach that you just couldn’t ignore. 

ruby still looks for the jay in the hallways, but instead of longing for him she hides away. 

“tell me if you see that asshole, y/n.” ruby whispers to you on your way to physiology class, her head ducked down to your ear as she links her elbow with yours. 

you sigh, “ruby, are you really still hiding from him?” you give her an incredulous look. “it’s not like he’s gonna bite you or anything.” 

“ugh, i wish he would.” ruby shakes her head as she keeps her eyes forward. she misses the way you cringe at her words, unable to help the memory of the way jay’s teeth bite down on your inner thigh that gets forced into your mind. “at least then he’d acknowledge me somehow.” 

“still no text from him?” 

“no, not even a like on my insta.” 

you’ve seen ruby sulk before— like last summer there was a 50-50 chance if she’d be ecstatic or depressed every other day when her and jay were going through another one of their “rough patches”. but those moods never lasted as long as this one has. it’s gotten to the point that you’re seeing different sides of your best friend that you hadn’t even known existed. ruby has become more desperate and clingy. you hadn’t realized before how much her mood is affected by her relationship with jay. it’s like she’s fragile. 

“yo, jay!” a male voice calls from behind you. you feel ruby freeze beside you as you both see park wonbin behind you, coming closer as he keeps his gaze locked in the hallway in front of you— obviously searching for someone. 

“shit!” ruby lets out a sharp hiss before she darts into the girls’ washroom, leaving you standing alone in the hallway. 

you watch park wonbin walk straight past you, much like everyone else does when ruby isn’t with you. “jay, bro, where have you been?” wonbin continues, his hand reaching up as he aims to dab jay up who stands right in front of him now. 

you can’t help the way your chest tightens when you see that jay is fully turned in your direction, but his eyes don’t even flicker your way— they stay on wonbin. jay’s lips (that you’ve become pretty familiar with) upturn into his usual smirk as he meets wonbin. 

if jay turns his eyes to the right just a little bit he’d be able to see you. please. you mentally beg him to look at you. for him to acknowledge your presence in this busy hallway where you stand by yourself. 

“sorry, i slept in.” you hear him reply to wonbin, nudging wonbin’s shoulder away from him with his fist. 

“up late again last night,” you don’t see wonbin’s face but by the sound of his voice you can tell that it’s scrunched up into a playful tease. “who’d you fuck this time?” 

jay rolls his eyes, turning away from you as he starts to walk further down the hall with wonbin, “shut up, bin.” 

there’s like an elastic band wrapped around jay and your heart, and the further he walks down the hall, the smaller his head gets in  your vision before he turns the corner, the more the elastic band threatens to break. it’s squeezing so tight, fully stretched out until it snaps completely when he’s out of sight. but only your heart is affected, it gets hit from the elastic so hard it stings in your chest.

people keep walking past you in the hallway, weaving around you to not hit you, but they don’t look at you. no, they don’t look at you the way they look at ruby if she was in your position right now. and maybe that’s good for you, or else they’d be able to see the yearning that’s in your eyes as you stare at the last place you saw jay. 

a sudden hit to your shoulder has you breaking out of your trance. 

“oh! i’m so sorry!” a blonde girl puts her hand out to you to apologize, but she doesn’t wait for you to say anything, she keeps walking down the hall with the rest of her friends. 

you take it as a sign that you should go check up on ruby in the bathroom instead of waiting around, hoping for jay park to turn around. 

there’s no one in the girls’ bathroom except for ruby who stands at the mirror, wiping underneath her eyes to rub away the fallen mascara. you can tell she’s been crying when she looks at you. 

“did you see him?” ruby rushes her question out, her eyes wide. “did he say anything to you?” 

“no, he didn’t see me, he just kept walking with wonbin.” 

ruby’s eyes and lips frown at your response, turning back to the mirror to fix her makeup. you lean against the sink counter, watching her gently. 

“he didn’t even glance over?” 

you shake your head no. 

ruby lets out a bitter laugh as he stares at you through the mirror reflection. “you should’ve said something.” 

your eyebrows furrowed together, “said what?” 

“i don’t know, y/n!” ruby’s hands flare at her sides, “something! anything! for once.” 

you take a step back from her, not liking her anger that is obviously rising. “are you really gonna keep dong this, ruby?” 

“doing what?” she turns to face you, arms crossed over her chest as she stares down at you. 

“acting like there’s something i could’ve done to prevent jay from ignoring you.” 

you see red flash through ruby’s eyes quickly— but her expression fades just as quick. she drops her arms, looking at herself once more in the mirror. 

“whatever. we should get to class,” she mutters under her breath, walking past you to the door without looking back. 

you wait a second before following her.

you hadn’t been able to focus reading your textbook the past week since your apartment building was under construction, something about weak pipes on the roof. which meant that from morning to late afternoon all you could hear was relentless banging and drilling as the construction workers fixed the pipes. 

you really needed to get this week’s chapter read for your medical terminology class tomorrow though since your professor has spontaneously started giving pop quizzes for each chapter every week. and since ruby has basically been M.I.A after your physiology class a few days ago you can’t ask to study at her place. 

which leaves you to study at the campus library. 

you didn’t mind the campus library. you use to sit in the library for hours during your first year when your and ruby’s schedules barely lined up. you’d wait for her and jay to come find you after class, pulling you away from your study session to get you to go to some lame party with them. the librarians used to love you since you were always so quiet and didn’t cause any mayhem like a lot of the other students that would come in there. they used to greet you with a smile every time you’d walk in the door with your hands full of textbooks and paper. though, you remember the scowl on their face every time they’d see ruby and jay walk in to come get you. ruby never understood why everyone has to be quiet in a public library. 

you were halfway through the skeletal system chapter with your headphones in and hair pulled into a claw clip to keep your hair out of your face, when sudden warm fingers spread across the back of your exposed neck. 

you jolt upward, your hand flying to your neck as check behind you— catching the eyes of jay who walked behind you, a playful smirk on his face as he looks over his shoulder as he keeps walking past. he’s in a group with his friends, none of them aware of you or that jay had touched you. 

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you look at him, your bottom lip being caught in between your teeth as you try to mask the shyness that takes over you. jay winks at you before he turns back to his friends, all of them retreating to the far back of the library, out of yours and the librarians view. 

your hand stays on the back of your neck where jay had touched you. the nerves on the skin still tingling as you can feel where each one of his fingers had grazed you. your stomach felt like it had exploded with butterflies at the innocent touch. 

but it was more than that. 

sure, he hadn’t stopped to talk to you, but he had seen you. which is more than you can say from what happened in the hallway a few days ago. 

your textbook feels so unimportant now, spread open in front of you. your fingers dancing on the base of your neck, trying to keep the feeling of jay’s fingers there for as long as you can. you know you should really be able to focus on the types of bones in the hand and their functions, but now jay has completely taken control of your brain, once again. 

you wonder why he hadn��t taken the risk to tease you in front of his friends, in public. did it mean that he wasn’t afraid for his friends to know what you and him have done in his bed and in his car? you wish he would say something to you, but for now you’ll have to settle with his actions, trying to decipher what they mean. you decide that is enough for you for now, just knowing that jay sees you, even when ruby’s not around. he confuses you, but you figure it’s worth it if he makes you feel like you’re ontop of the world.

on thursday night, when the construction workers finally go home for the night, you plan on sitting on your couch watching reruns of love island and eating take out since you had two three hour lectures earlier. you just wanted to relax in your own home, in silence. 

but, since ruby is your best friend you should’ve figured that wouldn’t have worked out for you. 

even though it’s been days since you have seen ruby, when there’s a sudden knock on your front door you don’t doubt that it’s her. before you can even get up from your spot on the couch where you had planned to rot all night, the front door swings open, and sure enough, it’s ruby. 

“move over,” she huffs out, making you scoot over so she can sit on the couch beside you. she copies your previous position, putting her feet up on the coffee table in front of your couch and drapes the blanket over top of her lap so you’re sharing it. ruby wrinkles her nose when she sees maya jama on screen, announcing that there'll be another re-coupling tonight. “really? love island?” 

you shrug, “it’s entertaining, ok?” 

ruby rolls her eyes but doesn’t complain about your choice in television again. it’s the first time you’ve seen her in a while. you figured she needed space since your little argument in the bathroom, and all the stuff that’s going on with jay. usually you’d be worried if she hadn’t texted you in a while, even if the text was just about homework, but you didn’t seem to be bothered this time around. 

when all the couples are surrounding the firepit and maya jama reappears in another designer dress, ruby sighs before she turns to face you. 

“i’m sorry for ignoring you the past few days,” she starts and pulls her sweater’s sleeves over her hands. you notice that she’s hiding within herself, something she very rarely does. “i’ve been thinking about what you said in the bathroom last week— and you’re right.” your attention is fully on her at this point, though she can barely keep her eyes on yours without looking down at her lap. “i shouldn’t expect you to throw yourself in my and jay’s relationship. and i know that i’ve made you so involved in it and that’s not fair to you. i shouldn’t burden you with all of my relationship drama, i get like, if you’re super annoyed with it. i know i would be.” 

you softly smile at ruby, “you’re my best friend, ruby. i wanna be there for you, when you’re happy or sad or whatever. i just, i can’t control what jay does, and i know that’s frustrating but, i wish you would understand that i can’t make him do anything. he’s his own person.” 

ruby nods, “i know— i do understand. i guess, it’s just you’ve always been there throughout the entire time i’ve been with jay, so i guess it’s kinda like you’re a part of the relationship, too.” she dryly chuckles, but you can’t make yourself laugh. she glances at you warily and then continues, “i guess what i’m trying ot say is, i'm sorry for projecting my relationship problems onto you, or pressuring you or anything like that. i love you, you’re my best friend.” 

you open your arms up, “come here.” 

ruby smiles and scoots over the middle couch cushion to wrap her arms around you, your chins on each others’ shoulders. her familiar chanel perfume takes over your senses. 

“i love you, too.” 

ruby pulls back with a grin, “good, because tomorrow you’re coming to a party with me.” her voice jumps a few pitches, her eyebrows wiggling playfully. 

“what?”

ruby sits back on the couch with her feet propped on your coffee table, “yeah, i’m tired of sitting around all day crying about jay— i wanna go out! have fun again!” she reaches over to your lap, grabbing your popcorn bowl and starts eating a handful. “plus, he blocked me on everything so,” 

“what?” you gasp, leaning over her, jaw agape. “he what?” 

ruby rolls her eyes, “he fucking blocked me, on everything! he’s such a man child.” 

your fingers tangle into your hair on your scalp, trying to process what ruby is saying. jay and ruby have had some pretty awful fights, but they’ve never blocked each other on everything before. 

“why do you look so shocked?” ruby gives you a quizzical smile, “you know jay, you know how he thinks ignoring people says more than actual words.” ruby lowers her voice a few octaves to mock jay’s voice before she laughs, “he’s such an idiot.” 

your body feels limp as you sit back on the couch. you can’t help but feel a rush of guilt wash through you. was it your fault that he had blocked her on everything? have you really driven them apart? you try to think about what you had said to jay about ruby that could’ve caused him to cut ties with her like this, but nothing comes to mind. he doesn’t even let you say her name when you’re with him. 

“don’t look so worried, y/n, calm down,” ruby waves her hand at you before she takes another handful of popcorn into her mouth, “god, you’re lucky no one plays games with you like this. but, i guess no one’s ever obsessed over you anyway to wanna play games with you.” 

you cock your head, wanting to push her more about what she meant, but molly’s just been dumped from love island, making ruby scoff and shake her head. “i don’t even like, kady! why does molly have to go!” 

you know that you should feel better that things with ruby are okay again. she’s sitting on your couch complaining about reality tv with you and planning when to go out again. it’s like usual, but it’s not. 

the usual isn’t that you’re secretly hooking up with your best friends ex boyfriend. the usual usually includes jay being here with you, whether he’s fighting with ruby or making her giggle quietly. 

the usual doesn’t include you realizing your best friend makes you feel like shit— undesirable and unseen. it doesn’t include her ex boyfriend making you realize that you can shine without ruby. that you’re wanted. 

you stare at the tv without really watching it— you’ve seen it before, the islanders crying as they hug molly goodbye as zach looks shocked that she’s really leaving. you use to compare yourself to molly, almost having something you really want before it’s ripped away from you. but now you wonder if you’re more like zach, watching everything happen but not doing anything to stop it until he feels a quiet guilt that he can’t fix.

even though ruby is usually always late to class, she is never late when she has to pick you up to go to a party. so she’s pulled up outside your apartment right at 10pm sharp, texting you to come downstairs. you take one last look in the mirror before you leave, hoping that ruby doesn’t get too drunk today that you leave within an hour to take her home. that’s happened too many times before. 

but all those times before weren’t as bad since jay was with you and would help you walk ruby up the stairs to her apartment and tuck her into bed. if she would start throwing up then you would hold her hair as jay rubs her back. jay being there would definitely make the drunk ruby experience a lot better. 

but tonight, there would be no jay to help you with her. 

as soon as you got in the car and started driving to the party, you knew that tonight might be one of those nights where you leave early and have to physically push ruby up the stairs and get her into bed since she’d be totally incapable of doing it herself. 

“i’m just so tired of thinking about jay!” ruby waves her hand dismissively, “i want to have fun tonight okay! so let’s dance all night okay, y/n?” 

you smile at her, “sure, if you want.” but you know that once she starts drinking as soon as you get to the party that she won’t be able to stop and she’ll be dancing with anyone. 

you pull up to some house, with minimal lights on inside but you can hear the music from the front yard so you know there’s a party in there. plus there’s drunk people already on the porch, laughing and struggling to stand up by themselves. 

inside the house was crowded, probably one of the most crowded house parties you’ve ever been to in your life. it was a struggle for you to follow ruby into the kitchen, but she kept a hold of your hand and led you through it. you could hear people greeting ruby in front of yo, but you kept your head down, just trying to get through this crowd without being elbowed in the side. 

the kitchen was already a mess and the party hadn’t started too long ago. there were solo cups all over the table and opened bottles of vodka, and for some reason the tiled floor was soaked. 

“you’re are so taking shots with me tonight,” ruby squealed as she looked down at the variation of drinks. “shots? really?” you ask her, you had never been a fan of shots, plus it was hard to take shots when you always had to be the sober friend to look out for ruby. 

“yes! please,” ruby begs you, her eyes pleading for you to agree, “please c’mon, you know how hard it’s been for me recently.” 

you cringe at the mention of why she’s been so down recently, knowing that maybe you had a part in it. you take a glance at all the vodka and the different coloured shot glasses in front of you and you decide that maybe taking a shot would decrease the feeling of guilt that’s crawling up your throat. 

“fine, pour me one.” 

“yay!” ruby claps excitedly as she grabs a bottle and pours some of the clear liquid into four shot glasses. “two for you and two for me.” 

“what, two?” 

“yes duh! it’ll be fine, please.” 

you take a look at her sad, begging eyes for a moment, and then pick up both shot glasses, ignoring how ruby laughs triumphantly. you’ve never really been drunk with her before, so she so badly wanted you to be as wasted as her. on the count of three, both of you drink both of your shots consecutively, cringing at the bad taste. 

“ugh, here, hurry,” ruby’s face is scrunched up from the taste, and reaches over to get two cups, pouring some purple punch into them. she passes you one and you both eagerly down the punch, it’s fruity taste a lot better than the strong vodka shots. ruby cheers, her cheeks warm as the alcohol enters her system. she scoops some more punch into hers and your now empty cups, “let’s go dance!” 

you’re still processing the awful vodka taste in your mouth and the way the liquor felt as it goes down your stomach, but you follow ruby back into the crowded living room, holding tight onto your cup. 

ruby pulls you into some little circle that’s in the middle of the living room, greeting some people and hugging them. everyone is holding the same red solo cups as you and ruby. 

“this is my best friend, y/n!” ruby gestures to you in front of the group. “y/n, this is chaeryeong, dana and lexi.” 

you wave at them and mumble a hi under your breath and they do the same before they turn back to ruby. the girl who has long black hair, chaeryeong, grabs ruby’s arm with a serious expression. 

“did you see jay?” 

“what do you mean?” ruby cocks her head, confused. 

“jay’s here, ruby.” 

you see ruby’s face pale as she starts to look around. you have to refrain from looking around yourself. but unlike ruby, you’re looking around because you want to see him, not hide from him. 

“oh my god, why? i thought him and beomgyu didn’t get along,” 

the girl with the curly blonde hair, dana, shrugs, “i don’t know, i guess they made up. i know they’re both friends with wonbin, so.” 

ruby groans, “this sucks, i wanted to have fun tonight! not worry about my ex boyfriend lurking around.” 

chaeryeong puts a hand on ruby’s shoulder, “don’t worry, ruby, we can still have fun!” she turns and looks at you, “right?” 

you perk up as she includes you, “right, you said you wanted to dance ruby.” 

“oh my god, please!” ruby brightens up at the mention of dancing and turns back to the group, “have you guys taken shots or are you just drinking the punch?” 

“just the punch,” dana shows ruby her cup. 

ruby sighs, “come on then, let’s get you guys some shots!” 

before you can say anything else the three girls cheer and follow ruby back into the kitchen. you don’t have any other choice but to follow them, not wanting to be left alone in the middle of the living room. 

ruby starts pouring her three friends some shots, but you stay at the doorway of the kitchen, telling them that you’d prefer the punch instead. you stare back into the living room as dana and ruby start talking about their lab partners for physiology, something that you don’t care to talk about but chaeryeong and lexi seem interested in. 

the house is dark with the only light being from some lazily put up string lights and cheap disco balls. the music has seemingly gotten louder in the past twenty minutes since you’ve been here. you can feel the alcohol warm your stomach, starting to settle into your body. 

you hear ruby cheer again behind you, and you know she must’ve taken another shot. you wonder if any of ruby’s three friends will help you tuck ruby into bed later on. but with the way they’re drinking too, you doubt it. 

you start to think about how if jay were here he’d probably be telling ruby to settle down, or maybe they’d be fighting. but you would know that he’d still help you pack ruby into an uber later on. 

if you hadn’t known that jay was apparently at this party, you would’ve thought that you were hallucinating him from thinking about him too much when you suddenly see him on the other side of living room. he’s standing by the stairs, the fairy lights that are circled loosely around the stair rail hang behind his head, like a halo. 

it’s like he could feel your eyes on him because suddenly he starts looking around the room, turning away from his friend, until his eyes land on yours, still standing in the kitchen doorway. 

you freeze as you look at eachother, but a smirk spreads on jay’s face. his eyes land on your cup for a second, before they return back to your eyes. even from across a crowded room he makes you nervous. he has some dominant energy that takes over you. 

his friend starts talking to him again, making jay turn away from you for a second before he winks at you, then giving his friend his full attention. you think it’s partly due the alcohol, but your cheeks feel warm. 

“y/n,” ruby grabs your arm, turning you around, “let’s go dance!” 

you’re grateful that the house is so dark, or else ruby would’ve definitely commented on how red your cheeks are right now. 

“um, sure. yeah,” you nod at her, your mouth suddenly dry. if ruby looks out into the kitchen doorway right now, she’ll probably see jay. your chest tightens at the thought of what might happen if ruby and jay see each other right now. you’re assuming that jay is also drinking and ruby is on the way to becoming wasted, you wonder if they’d even be able to have a conversation. would they somehow make up after weeks of not talking? 

ruby’s grip on you tightens as she starts to pull you back into the crowded living room, chaeryeong, dana and lexi coming with you. they’re talking about something, but you can’t hear them over the music. you turn your head back to the stair rail where you had last seen jay, but he wasn’t there. your heart drops but you also feel relieved that he had moved, you didn’t want ruby to see him. 

you dance with the girls for a bit, trying to lean into the way the alcohol was making you feel. you finished another cup of your punch and were starting to feel the alcohol burn in the pit of your stomach. the music was sounding better, even if you didn’t know the songs. 

for a while, as you danced, you thought that ruby had control over herself. that she actually hadn’t drank that much. but as the hour prolonged with the five of you dancing in the middle of the living room, and your feet starting to hurt despite the alcohol numbing your lips, you could see ruby’s demeanor start to deteriorate. 

ruby started dancing more sloppily, smiling lazily and yelling loudly but slurred. she kept her hand on dana’s shoulder as she danced, to keep herself balanced. the other three girls were definitely more drunk than you, but they weren’t as drunk as ruby. you could see chaeryeong struggling to keep her eyes wide open, they wanted to fall into slits so she could try to see better but it obviously wasn’t working with the alcohol in her system. 

suddenly, ruby stopped dancing, dropping her hand from dana’s shoulder to cover her mouth. she was bent over slightly, her eyes wide as she started to push through the crowd of people. the four of you look confused at each other before you all start to follow ruby. you all call her name, wanting her to slow down, but it was no use. you all followed her up the stairs, leading to the second floor of the house. 

even though there was a girl about to walk into the bathroom, ruby pushed past her, practically falling onto her knees in front of the toilet. the bit of panic you felt stopped when you saw that she was running away just to throw up. dana is quick to pull ruby’s hair into a makeshift ponytail and chaeryeong turns on the ceiling bathroom light so you could actually see something. 

the poor girl that was pushed out of the bathroom for ruby to vomit was standing there in shock, her jaw dropped with a look of disgust on her face as she watched ruby continuously throw up into the toilet. 

“i’m so sorry,” you gush at the girl, your face scrunched up in embarrassment for some reason. 

the girl looks at you and then quietly laughs, “that’s ok, duty calls.” she gestures at ruby. 

you smile politely at her as the girl turns and starts to head back downstairs. ruby’s friends are all crowding the bathroom door, trying to check in on ruby. the bathroom is quite small though, so you can only stand in the hallway by the door. 

you’re trying to see if ruby is alright, but it’s hard to see through the other three girls. you see lexi turn on the tap, filling her red cup with water for ruby as ruby is still hunched over the toilet bowl. you think it’s time to leave, for ruby’s sake. 

but at least this time you lasted more than an hour. 

unexpectedly, a hand reaches out and grabs your arm and pulls you out of the hallway. you try to speak, to yell to the other girls for help, but another hand lands on your mouth, preventing you. they pull you into a bedroom that was right beside the bathroom, closing the door once you’re pulled in. 

you squirm in the person’s grasp, trying to get them to let you go, your heart picking up pace as you feel their presence behind you. your body is pushed up against the now closed bedroom door, and it’s only then that you see a pair of familiar, brown eyes looking into yours. 

though your body only relaxes when you hear jay’s annoying laughter in your eyes, “i got you good, huh?” he takes his hands off of you, taking a step back so he can take in your scared expression. 

you cross your arms over your body, “haha, very funny.” you speak sarcastically, not impressed by him at all. 

jay tsks at your annoyed face, “oh c’mon, baby, i just wanted to see you.” you tense at the nickname, looking back at the door subconsciously, not wanting ruby to hear him. “relax, they didn’t see me pull you in here.”

“well you’re lucky they didn’t, why would you do that?” your eyebrows furrowed together, concern laced on your face at the thought of anyone seeing you enter a room alone with jay. 

 jay shrugged, “because i wanted to see you.” 

you roll your eyes, “and you couldn’t do it in a more inconspicuous way?” 

jay smirks before he quickly pushes his body against yours, pinning you against the door and him, “no, not when you look so good tonight.” 

you try to push him off, to tell him that he’s being irresponsible, but his lips attach to your neck, pressing kisses into your soft skin. his body feels so warm on yours as his hands start to move down your body. 

“j-jay, we can’t!”

“why not?” jay mumbles against your skin, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing your bare thighs. 

“because ruby is right next door,” you hiss at him, trying to get your voice to see unaffected by his actions. 

jay only smirks and starts to lift the bottom of your dress up, revealing your panties, “so? can’t you be quiet? or is my dick that good?” he laughs when you roll your eyes at him. 

“this is wrong, jay. she could hear!” 

“this entire thing is wrong, it’s been wrong— who cares if she hears?” 

you know he’s right. it’s been wrong since you stayed far too long in his apartment those weeks ago. it’s been wrong since the moment you sat on his lap and made out with him, since he’s made you cum in the backseat of his car. but maybe it’s been wrong since the moment he started dating ruby. the way he’s always been on your mind, how you always caught him staring maybe a second too long at you when ruby would leave the room. you think that maybe in a twisted way, you hooking up with jay at this party that his ex girlfriend brought you to, this was all right. 

jay feels you relax under his touch, and he knows that he’s won. that you’ll let him do anything to you, even hook up with him while his ex and your best friend is in the room right beside you. the rooms share a wall. she’s only meters away from you and jay. 

the thought of ruby walking in and seeing you with jay sends a shock down your body, making your arms grip onto jay’s shoulders as his fingers push your panties to the side are start to massage your clit in a circle. jay knows how you like it now, soft but fast. he knows you like to be teased. he knows what your pussy feels like when you cum. 

he knows too much about you for it to ever go back to how it was before. when it was him and ruby, and ruby’s best friend. 

you let out a sigh of pleasure as you melt into jay’s touch. his fingers starting to warm you up. you can both feel your pussy start to moisten at his touch. you both know how easy it is for jay to get you to soften. 

jay’s lips attach to yours, feverishly. his lips are rough against yours, making out with you against the door hastily. you don’t struggle to keep up with his pace, you let him guide you along. you let his tongue in your mouth, something that he’s done too many times before. like he can recognize every inch of your  mouth now. you don’t think your best friend’s ex should be able to do that. 

“fuck, we shouldn’t do this, jay,” you pull away slightly at the thought of ruby again. but jay’s fingers remain on your clit, circling it, getting your knees to start to quiver. 

“you always say that, yet you always let me touch you, always let me make you feel good.” jay’s voice deepens as he speaks, his fingers slowly becoming covered in your juices as your pussy gets wetter and wetter. there’s something about the risk of being caught, especially if it was by ruby, that sends you spiraling. it has your adrenaline pumping through your veins. “are you that addicted to my dick, y/n? can’t say no to it?” 

you whimper at his question, hating the way that he can so easily wrap himself around your mind, your thoughts. “y-yes, you know i love your dick.” 

jay chuckles dryly at you, not wasting a second to start making out with you again. the back of your head is pushed against the door behind you, your fingers clawing at jay’s black t shirt. his fingers start to pick up pace on your clit, rubbing it just the way you like it. the way that can make you cum the fastest. 

you moan into jay’s mouth, part of you thankful that his tongue is wrapped around yours so that ruby can’t hear you. you start to circle your hips more, trying to get jay to move even faster, trying to get even more of him. 

jay pulls away and looks down at your circling hips, his fingers disappearing under your panties and chuckles, “fuck you’re so desperate for me— you even risk getting caught by your best friend just to get my dick.” 

you nod, your hair becoming a mess on the back of your head from the friction against the cold door behind you, “i just want you in me so bad. please jay,” 

jay’s voice comes out in a growl, “fuck,” he takes his hand away from your pussy, ignoring the way you whimper out at the loss of his touch, “you drive me fucking crazy, y/n.” his hands grab your shoulders, moving you around to push you down on the bed. he’s quick to crawl on top of you, hovering over you with your dress still pulled up over your hips, your panties now having a wet stain on them from your juices. he groans at the sight, “you wear this short dress, stare at me with those doe eyes of yours from across the room— and then act surprised when i pull you in here?” jay hurriedly moves down your body with his lips, kissing the exposed skin of your neck, chest, arms and thighs. 

you try to defend yourself, but your voice is airy from the anticipation, “i, i didn’t think you’d fuck me here.” 

jay shakes his head, “you should’ve known that i can’t resist you, y/n… how can i resist my own personal slut?” 

you moan at the name, loving the way that he truly degrades you. the way it makes you feel powerful. like you have some control over him that no one else does. that you really make it hard for him to think of anything else. that you’re better than anyone else. 

“fuck, ok i can’t wait anymore— take off your panties for me,” jay nods at you, standing up and zipping down his jeans. 

you react quickly, lifting your hips off the bed to take off your underwear, flinging them on the floor. you keep your eyes on jay, his cock now being revealed as he pulls it out of his jeans. he’s already hard and dripping precum. you can tell that he must’ve been hard for a while, that your dress and your eye contact from across the room must’ve really turned him on. that he was telling the truth about him not being able to resist you. 

jay pushes you back down to the bed, his hands grab your thighs to force them open. he stays standing, his feet on the floor as he moves to align his cock with your dripping pussy. he’s being so rough with you, you both know that you trust him to make you feel good. that he knows what you like. 

“just be quiet— you don’t want ruby to hear, right?” jay grunts at you, staring right into your eyes as he glides his cock up and down your slick folds, gathering your sticky juices all over his dick. 

“right, right,” 

with that, jay slides his cock into you, not stopping until his cock hits your cervix. when he bottoms out he stays still for a moment, letting both of you adjust to his size. jay leans over your body, kissing you softly, gently. he pulls away after a minute, watching you flutter your eyes open to look at him again. he presses a kiss onto your forehead once before he stands up straight again. 

jay makes sure he has a tight grip on your legs, holding them up before he starts to pull out of you, so slowly. both of you moan at the feeling of your wet pussy allowing his cock to slide so easily in and out of you. he pulls all the way out so just the very, very tip of his cock is still inside of you, before he slams back inside of you. 

the harsh movement makes you cry out, shocking you from the surprise and the pleasure. 

“shh, baby— ruby’s right next door.” 

you cover your own mouth, trying to silence yourself as jay starts at a quick pace. jay’s hips move in a way that he’s sure makes his cock rub against your gspot. he hovers over you as he keeps your legs in the air. only his hips move as he fucks into you. his pants are just pooled at his ankles, both of you too desperate to get naked. both of you just need to feel each other, even with his ex girlfriend in the room right beside you. 

 “oh fuck, baby,” jay groans out, his eyes staring right at you as you keep your hand covering your mouth. your hand is successfully muting your moans, keeping your cover incase ruby or one of her friends overhears. you know this is wrong, fucking her ex boyfriend whilst she’s drunk next door. but it feels too good to stop. “is this what you wanted? wanted my cock soaked from your pussy?” 

“y-yes, fuck yes.” you answer as quietly as possible, a moan threatens to escape your lips but your hand covers your mouth just in time to silence it. 

even though you have to be quiet, and you and jay both know that you can’t control your moans too well, jay keeps talking to you, grunting out quietly in this random bedroom. “do you feel me in your tummy, baby? feel how fucking deep i am?” 

you nod against the mattress, your eyebrows furrowed together as jay fucks you deeper and deeper. his cock was so long and so hard. you could feel it in the bottom of your stomach every time he slid back in. it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. the way your pussy takes him in so deep, clamping around it like it wants him to stay inside forever. 

your pussy keeps tightening around jay, his own pleasure making him lose control. jay suddenly moves so your knees are pinned to the bed, caging your head in with your legs. he’s bent you into a ball, your pussy squeezed together by your legs, making it feel even tighter for him. you keep your eyes on jay, no where else to look since your legs are beside your head. 

with the new position jay fucks deeper inside of you at a steady pace. he makes sure his cock slides all the way into your pussy before he slides back out. he wants his entire cock coated in your juices. he just loves how wet you get for him. he can already see your juices dripping out of your pussy. everytime he pulls almost all the way out of you, more of your juices dribble around your lips, spreading against your inner thighs. 

jay’s grip on the back of your knees stays firm as he focuses on fucking you. both of you hear your moans against your palm— your palm moist from your saliva and sweat. you’re trying your hardest to stay as quiet as possible. but a part of you wishes that you could scream just as much as you wanted right now. because jay was fucking you so deep and it felt so fucking good. you’ve never been fucked from this angle before. like he’s genuinely drilling into you as he hovers above you. 

“f-fuck,” jay’s voice is growling, he’s never felt this good in his life. he’s getting pussy-drunk just from the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him. just imagining his cock inside of you gets his mind foggy enough to not be able to think straight. so, being able to pound into you like this, keeping you still against the mattress as he fucks you, is enough to get him wasted. “i fucking love your pussy— it’s like it’s made for me.” 

you nod at him, your body starting to feel like it’s on fire from your orgasm slowly building and building. jay leans closer to you, looking straight into your eyes as he demands, “say it— say your pussy is made for me, say that it’s mine.” 

you take your hand off your mouth, clutching the blanket underneath you for support as jay keeps slamming into you. “my pussy is yours, fuck it’s only yours— just for you, just please don’t stop.” 

jay grunts, loving how obedient you are for him. you’ll do anything he asks and it drives him wild. “fuck i won’t stop, baby— love the way you let me use this pussy, especially when ruby is right next door, fuck.” 

you whimper out, reminding yourself that you have to be quiet. you bite down hard on your lip and grip the blanket underneath you tighter. if jay’s cock didn’t feel so fucking good inside of you you’re sure that your body would be sore from the position he has forced you in. if his hands weren’t pinning your knees to bend and stay right on the mattress on either side of your head, you’re sure that you’d whine from the loss of blood to your feet. but his cock is addicting to you— and by the way he’s groaning out quietly nonstop, you’re sure your pussy is addicting to him. that he can’t resist you. that he wants you and only you. 

“i’m close, baby.” jay confesses, his eyes slanted as the pleasure builds within him. he takes one of his hands off your knees and moves so his thumb is pressed right onto your swollen clit. he starts to rough fast and hard circles on it. his thumb swishes against you at the same pace as his cock fucking deep inside of you. 

you moan out quietly, biting your lip harder as you stare at jay. he looks so hot above you. he’s so focused on making you feel good and wanting to cum that his eyebrows are pushed together. he keeps his jaw flexed and he grits his teeth. it’s hard for him to be quiet too. 

“can i cum inside of you, baby? please?” 

“yes, yes please, jay.” you answer so quickly, “please cum inside of me, i want it so bad.” 

“fuck, be quiet baby, unless you want ruby to hear you beg for my cum, is that what you want?” 

you whimper out in response, “n-no, just want your cum dripping out of me, so bad.” 

jay growls again, your words having a strong effect over him. “okay, okay— just cum on my cock for me then? can you do that? does it feel good like this?” 

you nod, “y-yes, just keep rubbing my clit like that, please.” 

jay does what you ask, keeping his thumb steady on your clit with your legs still in the air. his cock keeps sliding in and out of you over and over again. “cum on my cock, baby. wanna feel your pussy cum on my cock.” 

with words send you over the edge, gripping onto his forearms to steady yourself as a huge wave of pleasure washes over you. your body spasms as your pussy clamps over his cock, the ball in your stomach snapping as you cum. jay moves quickly to cover your mouth with his hand, stopping you from screaming out. the orgasm that washes over you is powerful, the hardest you’ve ever cum before. your body feels like it's being electrocuted as you cum all over his cock. the entire time jay doesn’t stop from thrusting his cock in and out of you. 

“f-fuck baby, i- i’m cumming,” jay grunts out, and within seconds you can feel his warm cum coat your pussy. he fills you up right to the brim. he still doesn’t stop thrusting, making sure to cover you’re entire pussy with his cum. he fucks his cum into you, making sure to mark you. making sure to mark his pussy. 

jay doesn’t stop until you’re both panting and overstimulated. he keeps his cock lodged inside of you and finally drops your legs. your legs are limp and weak and fall right to the floor. jay leans over you, his own legs tired from standing over you this entire time. your chests are panting together, covered by clothes but you’re both sweaty and tired from cumming so fucking hard. 

jay slowly pulls out, both of you watching as his cum drips out of you, making even more of mess of your abused pussy. 

“fuck,” jay grunts out, “that’s so hot.” you whimper in agreement. jay leans over so his lips are almost against yours, “you’re such a slut for me, i love it.” you smile as he kisses you again. your mind feels foggy from the orgasm and the alcohol. jay pulls away and bends down to pull up his pants, button them again so he’s fully dressed. he sees your panties on the floor and picks them up, smirking as he touches the fabric. 

“hey, give me those,” you giggle at him, sitting up on your elbows to try to grab them from his hands. jay only bites his lip, glancing between your pussy, soaked in his cum and your panties. “jay?” 

“are you just gonna put these on? with my cum still in you?” 

you gulp, the thought relighting a fire in you at the thought. you, walking around the party with jay’s cum dripping out of you. talking with ruby while her ex’s cum coats your entire inner thighs. 

“give me them,” you repeat and stand up, easily taking them from jay. he watches you intently, curious about what you’re going to do. you bend down, stepping in your panties and sliding them back over your waist before pulling down your dress again. 

“fuck,” jay says breathlessly, staring at your hips, knowing his cum is there. knowing that if anyone saw it, they’d wonder whose it was. knowing that you have been marked by someone— by him. 

you laugh at his reaction, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him for another kiss. 

“i’ll see you, later?” jay looks down at you, his eyes beaming happily. 

“of course,” 

jay kisses your nose once more, before he opens the door and looks down the hall, making sure no one was around before he smiles at you once, closing the door after him so you’re left alone in the bedroom. you look back at the bed, seeing that it’s a complete mess now from your squirming against it. you glance in the mirror briefly, patting down the back of your hair, wiping the fallen mascara under your eyes from the tears of your orgasm. 

when you’re ready, and when you think it’s been long enough for people to not assume you and jay were in here together, you open the bedroom door and step into the hall. you first look at the bathroom right beside you. the door is completely closed now, but you can see that the light is still on it, the light shining through the cracks around the door frame. 

you take a deep breath, glad that ruby wasn’t standing right there. 

just as you think ruby went downstairs again, or maybe even left from throwing up, the bathroom door opens and ruby steps out. her hair is a mess and you can tell she had just been sick. 

“oh, y/n, thank god,” ruby says, letting out a long sigh, “i was so worried, i know you don’t drink a lot so i thought you had gotten lost!” 

“you were worried, about me?” you repeat, trying to understand. 

“well yeah, one second you were there and the next you weren’t! i didn’t know what had happened to you! chaeryeong and dana went looking for you!” 

“oh,” you can’t help but look taken aback, “i was just downstairs, i got lost in the crowd, you know.” 

ruby pouts, “aw, i’m sorry! i threw up,” 

you pretend like this is news to you, a false look of concern on your face, “oh no, are you okay?” 

ruby shrugs, “i guess, i think i shouldn’t drink for a while.” 

you try to not roll your eyes at her. you’ve heard this exact sentence from her a million times before. 

“maybe you’re right. should we get you home then?” 

ruby smiles and links her elbow with yours, “yeah that sounds good, do you wanna make ramen when we get home? i’m so craving it right now,” 

you laugh at her, “what? you just threw up!” 

ruby shrugs, “so? it tastes good,” 

“whatever, but if you throw it up, don’t complain to me about it.” 

ruby boops your nose with her finger, “never.” 

on the way out of the house, you meet eyes with jay who’s sitting on one of the couches. you give each other a look that no one else would understand. no one knows what secret you’ve been keeping together. or that his cum is currently dripping down your leg. 

ruby pulls you out of the house before you can stare too long at jay, or trip over the crumpled carpet from not paying attention. and even though ruby doesn’t stop talking to the uber driver the entire time home, you don’t listen to a word she says, you don’t think the uber driver listens either. 

the feeling of jay’s cum drying to your inner thighs and pussy has you squirming in your seat. it had a thrill of excitement and risk swelling in your body. you’re glad ruby was still drunk or else she would’ve noticed your demeanor. 

even though it’s only been less than an hour since your hook up with jay, you can’t stop repeating it over and over in your head. he was the perfect mix of rough and gentle. the way his lips feel on yours still tingles on yours. you drag your finger over your bottom lip, drawn to the feeling. 

 jay’s proposal of seeing you later runs through your mind. he actually wants to see you again. the way he was so eager and desperate to fuck you tonight has you spiraling. the way he called your pussy his. like, he actually wants you to be his. 

it’s a dangerous thought that’s grows in your mind, but you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, jay wants exactly what you want. 

since the party, you’ve not only wanted more of jay’s touch, but you’ve craved more of the feeling that you get when you’re with him. the feeling like you can do anything you want now that you know who you truly are. that you’re not meant to be someone else’s shadow— you’re meant to be the light that causes a shadow.  

you used to pray for the construction workers to speed up the work they were doing on the roof of your apartment building, but if their slow work meant more opportunities for jay to slip his hand underneath your skirt in the back of the library, then you hope they take months. 

though jay’s fingers fucking in and out of you made it hard for you to focus on how micro organisms affect how diseases spread in the human body, you didn’t mind since it got jay close to you. it got you to realize that you can do something that doesn’t fit the “good girl” persona ruby has forced onto you. that you can make your own decisions. 

you spent more nights at his apartment, which let you sleep in longer since there was no power tools to wake you up. it let you and jay explore each others’ bodies more. it let jay be able to find your gspot perfectly every single time he entered you. he got you to come undone faster and faster every single time. you got to familiarize yourself with each and every vein that protruded off his hard cock. you know which parts of your tongue he likes to feel most wrapped around the tip of his cock as you suck him dry. 

it let you and jay have more lazy morning sex before you both had to get up for class— even if that lazy morning sex was disrupted by his friends banging on his front door. the rush of adrenaline that you got as you snuck out of his apartment half naked with his bite marks on your chest and thighs as he distracted his friends with something in the kitchen.

the craving for the feeling and the physical pleasure jay gives you got you to text him in the middle of class telling him you need to feel his warm cum drip down your pussy in the back of his car in twenty minutes or else you will explode, with ruby right beside you. the feeling of finding yourself and sex was available whenever and wherever you wanted was addicting and possible if you kept it a secret. 

at first, the high jay was able to give you felt like this all was the right thing to do to break out of the shell ruby has tricked you into. that doing something so out of question for you would help you grow as a person. but everytime jay pulls out of you and you walk home with your panties still left on jay’s bedroom floor, that achy craving feeling of the loss of that high gets more detrimental and inevitable. 

when you have jay’s full attention, it feels like you can do anything, like you’re the centre of the world. the things he tells you and whispers in your ear just before he makes you cum for the one hundredth time. it makes you feel like you have everything you ever wanted— that you have jay. 

but the truth is that you don’t have jay, not the one you want anyways. 

you don’t want to sneak around with him, only being able to feel like this true self of yours when you’re alone with him. you want to be able to hold hands with him down the hallways at school, to dance with him at parties and hang out with his friends. stuff that he used to do with ruby. 

you don’t want to stop what you have with jay, it feels too good when you’re with him, but it feels so bad when you’re not. you used to be able to enjoy being alone, you almost preferred it sometimes. but now it feels like the world is about to crash down when you’re left with yourself. like you don’t know who you are when you’re not in some secret world with jay that you and him have built. 

at first this used to feel empowering, but now it feels like you’re pretending. that when you’re with jay you have to put on this persona that you’ve created just for him to be able to stand being around you. that without this persona jay wouldn’t touch you. yet, the pleasure you feel is so real, but the pain you feel is raw and visceral.

the secret you keep with jay can only help you grow as a person so much. it’s like you’ve outgrown this secret, but you crave more with jay. you want it to feel as raw and visceral with jay as does the pain you feel when you’re alone. you don’t want to become someone else in order to keep him, you want him to want you, not the version he thinks is the real you. 

the secret can keep you alive for so long before it starts to rot inside of you until you can’t keep it hidden any longer.

you’ve never been the one to go out drinking alone. even when you’re with ruby you barely drink. maybe because you’re always her babysitter since she can never pace herself properly. 

but tonight you’re tired of only being able to feel like some greater version of yourself when you’re with jay. and you’re tired of being in ruby’s shadow when you’re with her. you feel so many emotions at once and you’re just trying to figure out who you are and who likes you for the real you. 

it took you a fourth shot for you to be able to start dancing at the bar downtown that you and ruby have gone to a few times before. the music started to sound better and your cheeks started to burn from the alcohol in your system. 

a few girls started dancing with you, they were introducing themselves to you but you can’t remember their names. they told you to start drinking some mango cocktail that they were also having, which tasted so good you didn’t know how much vodka they were mixing in each one. 

by the time your little drinking group had decided to head home, it was already 2am and you were wasted, but you didn’t want to go home just yet. without thinking for long, you type in jay’s address and order an uber to his apartment. you tried texting him that you’re coming over but you couldn’t find his name in your text messages. 

when you get to his apartment and knock on his door you’re holding yourself up by leaning on the doorframe until he opens the door, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. he was shirtless and in those damn grey sweatpants that drove you crazy. even with his hair a mess you still wanted him. 

“y/n?” jay grumbles, his voice hoarse from being woken up so abruptly in the middle of the night. “what’re you doing here?” 

you pout at him, walking past him into his apartment that you’ve been at countless times before, “i want you, duh!” jay shuts the door as he turns around to face you. it’s so obvious that you’re wasted. your speech is slurred and eyes are glazed over, plus you smell like you’ve been at the bar for as many hours as you were. before jay can process what you want, you’re reaching up and wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pushing your lips onto his, something that you’ve done so many times before. 

“w-wait,” jay puts his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back down onto your flat feet, pushing you off of him. “you’re drunk.” 

you give him a dismissive snort, “i’m not that drunk.” 

jay stares back at you unimpressed and not believing a word you say, “we’re not gonna fuck right now, y/n.” 

you pout again, crossing your arms over your chest like a child as you stare up at him, “why not? you don’t want me anymore?” 

jay puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to turn you around to walk you into his bedroom, “c’mon, lets lay down and sleep.” 

“no!” you dig your heels into the floor, stopping him from taking you anymore. you turn to face him again, your face still pulled into a pout. “i want you. you don’t want me?” 

“not when you’re drunk like this, baby, c’mon, let’s sleep.” 

you can’t help but groan in frustration, pushing his arms off of your shoulders, taking a step back so he can’t persuade you to sleep with his touch. 

“i thought you knew me, jay!” your voice rises, mainly due the alcohol in your system but also from the built up frustration and confusion you’ve been feeling for the past few weeks. “i thought you knew the real me, but i guess you don’t. no ever does.” 

“y/n, please,” jay pleads, so obviously not wanting to deal with this right now, but his dismissal of you only fuels your anger more. “it’s not like that and you know it. let’s talk about it in the morning.” 

“ugh,” you groan and step around him so you’re closer to the front door and further from his bedroom. “you always say ‘let’s talk later’ or ‘don’t over think this’. but, i can’t do that anymore. you don’t want me in public so we’ve been sneaking around for months. and now what? you don’t want me in private?”

“well what do you want me to, y/n?” jay finally snaps, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at you, “you’re my ex’s best friend! i don’t know what to do! what—” 

“then figure it out!” you cut him off, your narrowed eyes matching his, “figure out what you want! do you want me, or not? because i’m tired of secrets, sneaking around and pretending to be someone i’m not!”

jay’s face contorts into one that looks taken aback by your outburst. like he was never expecting this from you. which only proves to you that he doesn’t know you. he doesn’t know what you’re actually capable of. and maybe it’s time you figure out what you’re capable of on your own, without jay and the way he makes you feel. 

before he can say anything else you turn and storm out of his apartment, not even bothering to close the door behind you. you just rush outside into the cool night air, thankful to be alone on the street as you kneel down onto the sidewalk, letting out confused tears that you’ve been holding onto for months. 

you wanted to be seen, but instead you’ve become so hidden that you don’t even know who you are anymore.

it’s been a week since you’ve seen either jay or ruby. 

you told ruby you’re suffering from a horrible, disgusting flu all week which made her stay far away from you and ask no further questions about your absence from school. there’s a big football game coming up so she needs to be in perfect shape for cheerleading and obviously can’t risk getting sick. 

however, you’ve been radio silent from jay all week. the first few days after you had stormed out of his apartment as a drunk mess and told him to figure himself out, you were checking your phone every five minutes for a text from him. but a text never came. 

you debated just giving in and calling him and apologizing for being a disaster, but you couldn’t force yourself to be so pathetic. you had left the ball in his court. jay was the one who had to come up with a solution to fix whatever this was you had going on with each other. 

but with his current track record of ignoring ruby for weeks now, you figured you better give him some time before you completely give up on him, if he was even gonna answer you at all. 

ruby texted you earlier that she’s gonna bring over some soup for you since you’re feeling a bit better after your “week long flu”, so you were laying on your couch waiting for her. maybe she’d stay awhile once she saw you in perfectly good health. 

there was a knock on your door and you waited a second for ruby to burst in afterwards like she always does. but the door remains closed until another knock. you push yourself off your couch, wondering who could be at your door if it wasn’t ruby. 

when you pulled open the door, you froze. 

jay was standing there with a sheepish smile on his face. like he had known he wasn’t the one you’d be expecting at your door. 

“hi, y/n.” 

“jay, you can’t be here. ruby’s coming over.” you whispered harshly at him, glancing down the hallway in case she was near. 

“i’ll make it quick.” jay pushes, and steps into your apartment. you grapple for words as you glance one more time down the hallway before closing your door and locking it. 

“jay, seriously, she might see you leave here!” 

jay shrugs, keeping his position as he stands in front of you. you can tell he doesn’t care if she sees or hears or even smells him. but you can’t say the same. it has you biting your lip with anxiety as you stand in the middle of your front door and jay. 

“i’ve been thinking about what you said.” jay starts, his tone serious and eyes softening. “about all the secrets and sneaking around that we’ve been doing. and that you feel like you’ve been pretending to be someone.” he steps closer so he’s only inches away from you now, “i feel like that’s my fault. i’m sorry if i made you feel like you had to be someone else around me, i didn’t mean to make you feel like that.” 

you hold your ground even though you want to collapse into his arms and tell him that you’ve missed him all week. that you wished he would’ve just told you this sooner. but you keep your gaze hardened as you look up at him. “then what did you mean to do?” 

jay reaches down for your hands, playing with your ring like he always does. you feel yourself almost give into his touch, but you pull your hand away. jay needs to speak for once. you’re tired of trying to decode all his actions to try to find out what he means. you want him to say it. like a man. 

he looks taken aback a bit when you pull away from him. but he knows what you want. it’s just up to him if he can give that to you. 

jay sighs, “you were right. i have to figure out what i want.” he keeps his eyes on you, soft and genuine. he takes your hands in his and this time you let him, not breaking eye contact with him. “i missed you, and i’m sorry for confusing you— but i do know you, y/n. i do.” 

you feel your breathing pick up pace slightly and gently as jay leans in closer to you slowly, like he’s making sure you’re okay with this. when you don’t pull away from him he lets his lips meet yours for the first time in a week. the kiss is slow and sure and almost selfish. 

but you close your eyes, letting yourself melt into his lips once again. 

jay pulls away first, his eyes seeming genuine as he looks down at you, scanning your face like he’s missed looking at your features all week. 

“i am sorry, y/n.” 

you nod in understanding, letting yourself smile. he smiles at your quiet response, his hand cupping your jaw so his thumb brushes against your lips swiftly. 

“okay, i’ll go.” 

you wrap your arms around yourself instinctively, letting him walk past you to the door. he opens it and stands in the doorframe for a second, glancing back at you like there’s more he wants to say. he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it, his gaze shifting to the floor before looking back up at you. “don’t overthink too much, okay? you always do that.” 

you nod once more to him before he closes the front door after him, leaving you alone in your apartment. 

you don’t get a chance to take in the faint sizzle on your lips that jay had left— your ring still twisted on your finger from his anxious fiddling as he spoke before there’s a knock on your door again. when the door is pushed open automatically you aren’t surprised to see ruby, but you wish she had given you another minute to pull yourself together after seeing jay. 

“they didn’t have chicken noodle,” ruby pouts, “but they had tomato!” she holds up a plastic bag with an overenthusiastic smile. 

“perfect, i love warm ketchup.” 

ever since ruby came over and watched the rerun episode of love island with you, she’s been obsessed with the new season coming out tonight. so you picked up some chips and candy to watch the season premiere with ruby at her apartment. 

you looked forward to sinking into the couch with your best friend, watching shitty romance reality tv like nothing had ever changed between you two. like you haven’t been hooking up with jay for months now. you needed some normalcy in your life, especially now that jay had apologized to you. it felt like a new start for both of you. 

“ruby!” you call out as you open her apartment door, “i got you sour patch kids! the ones with gross watermelon that you lik—” you stop mid-sentence as you look up from the plastic bag you were carrying, almost dropping said bag when you see who’s sitting on the couch. 

“y/n!” ruby greets you excitedly, stepping out from the kitchen grinning from ear to ear. she was glowing almost. like the grey storm cloud that was overhead had finally dissipated. “look who’s here!” 

you take a second glance at the couch, wondering if you had mistaken the person for him. but when your eyes met his, you knew there was no mistake. 

he was sitting on ruby’s couch. in the exact same spot he use to sit in months ago, his arm thrown over the back of the couch as he smiled sheepishly at you. 

“jay?” you finally speak, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“yeah!” ruby nods with a little jump, “can you believe he’s here?” 

you’re unable to speak as you look between ruby and jay, trying to understand what is going on. ruby’s laughter breaks you out of your trance. she turns to jay, “she’s more shocked than i was!” you hear jay laugh but you don’t look at him. you’re too busy realizing that ruby is back to her same old self, like a ray of sunshine that can’t stop smiling. you haven’t seen her this gleeful in months. 

“oh! and y/n,” ruby comes up to you, grabbing your shoulders with her hands, “look!” she shoves one of her hands in your face and it’s impossible to miss what she’s showing you. “we’re engaged!” 

the clear diamond sat right in the middle of a silver band slid right onto ruby’s ring finger. 

“w-what?” your eyes scan quickly between ruby and jay. you unconsciously take a step back, heading back into the apartment’s door frame, like your mind and body are fighting if you should stay or run away. 

“isn’t it amazing!”! ruby beams, her face contorted into a huge smile as she stares at the ring on her hand, “and it’s all thanks to you!” 

“thanks… to me?” 

“yeah! jay told me that you talked some sense into him,” 

your focus is back on jay who is now standing up from his spot on the couch, walking over to stand next to ruby. 

“yeah, i told her how you told me to figure out what i want.” jay’s smile is tight lipped as he glances between you and ruby. “and this is what i want.” he wraps his arm around ruby’s waist, where it’s been so many times before. it’s safe and comfortable and easy. “i want to settle down and not hide my feelings.” 

ruby smiles at jay in a way that makes your stomach turn. jay kisses her on the cheek and he whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle before he turns back to you, “and i couldn’t have realized that without you, y/n. thank you for being such a good friend.” 

friend.

“right, thank you for always being there for me, y/n. you really held me together these past few months,” she elbows jay in the side playfully. “and now you’ll help me plan this wedding right!” ruby comes up to you, grabbing your hands in hers as she jumps up and down. 

you’re in too much shock to respond properly, your gaze continually flicking back and forth between both of them, trying to recognize either of the people standing in front of you. “y/n?” ruby’s voice says your name mixed with concern. “are you okay?” “um,” you step back into the hallway, away from ruby’s touch. she pouts as you force her to drop your hands, “i’m just, not feeling well. i think i’ll go home and watch love island from there, if that’s ok.” 

“oh,” ruby’s face remains in a pout, “okay, you were just starting to feel better again, too.” 

“yeah, yeah— um, i’m so happy for you, but i have to go, okay?” you drop the plastic bag of snacks on the floor beside your feet, not being able to hold them anymore with the way your body starts to feel numb. 

“okay?” 

“see ya, y/n.” jay calls from over ruby’s shoulder, but you don’t look at him as you turn and make a beeline straight to the apartment building’s stairs, not even bothering to wait for the elevator. 

you rush down the flights of the stairs, tears brimming your eyes the entire way down. your hands are trembling as you hold onto the stair railing. the exit door feels like a sanctuary as you reach it and push it open— feeling the cool air on your skin. the door hits the wall behind it as you push it open with far too much strength. 

you’re panting as you stand still, jay’s face and ruby’s ring still imprinted in your mind, replaying over and over again. 

a sudden drop of water landing on your cheek has you glancing upwards to the sky. the sun was covered by a dark grey cloud, the rain just starting to patter down now. the pavement slowly turns darker as the rain picks up as you stand there, your jaw dropped as you feel like it must be some cruel prank.  

friend. 

the word sounds foreign in your mind coming from jay’s lips. were you guys even friends in the first place? or were you always just ruby’s boyfriend and best friend? 

it felt like you guys had gone from strangers to lovers to strangers who know everything about each other. like the way his tongue felt against your neck. the way he’d wash his body first and then his hair in shower. he knew your secrets— you shared the biggest one. 

the worst part that was beating at your hear the most was how you believed everything he said. you thought he saw you and knew the real you and not the version that ruby and everyone else thought you were. you thought he’d help you grow into the version of a woman that he knew you could be, even if you didn’t. even if you didn’t like that version. 

jay messed with your mind. and for what? 

to get back at ruby? 

just in the end for him to go back to her? to go back to the easiest version of love that he could, where there were no risks? just familiarity. 

you don’t take another step before you collapse onto your knees on the wet pavement, the rain splattering around, soaking your hair and clothes, mixing with your tears. you wanted to scream loud enough to erase everything that had happened in the past few months— all the agony and secrets and pleasure.

you yearned for the past version of yourself that you knew. the version that didn’t hate being alone. that didn’t need jay’s attention to feel like she was worth something. that didn’t feel like she was self sabotaging herself by allowing herself to be put into her best friend’s shadow. 

your sight is blurry from your tears and the rain as you stare down at your hands when you realize: you have no idea who you are. 

if you aren’t ruby’s good girl best friend and you’re not the carefree girl that jay chooses— then who are you? especially now that you’re alone. 

it’s just you, curled on the pavement in the pouring rain as the grey cloud hovers above you, taking away the last bit of your sunshine. the loud rain helps you think and realize that you never want to feel like this again. 

you stand slowly, clothes wet and sticking to you. there’s no one around, no one to come after you or ask if you’re okay. but maybe that’s what you need. you don’t need anyone else in order to fulfill your identity. 

so you walk away from all the versions of yourself that are tied up in that apartment that were never truly yours and you don’t look back. you don’t want to go back. ever. 

@ taeghi, 2025. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

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